


A Thousand Words

by BlueWaterRedFlame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adopted Keith (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Barista Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Libraries, M/M, Photography, Professor Coran (Voltron), Secrets, Slow Burn, Tutoring, bowling, broganes, but they don't know it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15995294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWaterRedFlame/pseuds/BlueWaterRedFlame
Summary: Adjacent to the box which held the name Lance McClain, was a box that held the name of the last person on planet Earth that Lance would ever want to work with.Keith Kogane.Lance glances around the room, seeing pairs of other students chatting and exchanging phone numbers. He quickly darts his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the mullet-headed jerk that sits in the back of the lecture hall every single fucking day, but sees that he is nowhere to be found.Fuck my life.*******Keith and Lance get stuck together for an end-of-term photography project, that tasks them with creating a portfolio of photos that tell a story. Through struggles, support, friendship, and heartbreak, they discover that photos aren't the only things worth a thousand words. -- A story by RedFlame.





	1. Rule of Thirds

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I decided to write to help cope with the stress of college. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for beta reading this fic!

**Week 1 - Monday**  

“Mornin’ Lance!” Nyma calls from behind the Starbucks counter, quickly finishing up topping a frappuccino with whipped cream before racing over to the cash register. “So,” she huffs, catching her breath, “which of your usuals will it be this morning?”

“I think I’ll stick with an Americano today.” Lance says with a smirk, as Nyma grabs a cup and begins to write down the order.

“Need a boost this morning?” she asks, rushing over to the espresso machine, beginning to prepare the drink.

“Nah, just got a craving,” Lance shrugs, observing Nyma’s stark lack of assistance behind the counter. “Looks like you’re in need of a boost though.” He chuckles, turning his head back at the growing line of impatient and exhausted college students behind him.

“Yeah, Rolo called in this morning, so I’m stuck alone for a bit.” Nyma sighs, pouring Lance’s now complete coffee drink into the labeled cup.

“That sucks balls, I’m sorry.” Lance says, tilting his head slightly in pity. Nyma nods with exhaustion in response, before turning on her heels and heading back to the cash register.

“Good luck Ny! Ally and I will be here to help after class!” Lance waves to Nyma as he turns around and tentatively sips his coffee, heading toward the door of the student union.

At first, Lance was reluctant to get a job on campus, struggling immensely to keep up with his first semester of college. Transitioning from a small-town high school to a big-city college was quite the reality shock for him, but as he spent more time working hard and meeting new people, college slowly became more manageable. Getting a job at Starbucks was a dream come true; Lance always wanted to be that charming barista that all the customers swooned over, and now he’s living the dream. Plus, that employee discount saves him a shit ton of money each week, so it’s a win win anyway you look at it.

 

* * *

 

Lance saunters into the arts building, and heads straight for the lecture hall, tossing his emptied coffee cup into the trash can outside. He pushes through the doors of the room, and throws his hands up in the air in bravado.

“Good morning! Lancey Lance has arrived!” he shouts, smiling down at the hundreds of friendly eyes that turn around to face him. He returns several ‘good morning’s and ‘hello’s as he heads down the stairs to the front of the hall. Lance always loved being the center of attention, and what better way to do that than to announce your entrance into a crowded room? You give everyone a greeting all at once, wake a few people up, and make a few mornings and friends in the process. Again, win win.

“Good morning Lance!”

Lance follows the voice behind him to see his best friend Allura waving to him, patting the empty seat next to her.

“Hey Ally!” he says, quickly racing over to the empty seat and plopping down into it. “How are ya?”

“I’m a little bit exhausted, but otherwise doing swell!” she responds, her British accent curling the words off of the end of her tongue. “How about you?”

"Doin’ fine.” Lance shrugs, smirking. “Got my coffee this morning, so I’m all caffeinated up and ready for two hours of photography lecture.” he chuckles, leaning back into his seat.

“Better than me, that’s for sure.” Allura says with a sigh, twiddling her pencil in her hand. “Just gotta get through class and then work, and then I’m off to practice.” she says with a yawn, turning open her notebook to a clean sheet.

“Holy crow,” Lance gasps, “the first game is already in a couple weeks isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Allura says with a nod, “I’m not entirely sure how well the team is gonna do, but what I do know is that our cheer squad will knock their socks off.” Allura winks in Lance’s direction as the door at the front of the hall opens.

In walks their eccentric, orange-haired photography instructor, Professor Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe (although he insists everyone calls him by his first name, Coran). The guy was notable for always speaking in some sort of rhyme, figure of speech, or metaphor. Well, that and twirling that ridiculous mustache of his. _Seriously, how long has he been growing that thing?_

“Good morning photography connoisseurs!” Coran shouts from the front of the room as he pulls out his laptop from his bag and connects it to the projector screen. A couple of moments later the front of the screen is dimly lit by a slideshow.

“I gave him that intro!” Allura whispers in Lance’s ear, holding back a chuckle. Allura was Coran’s niece, and she often carpooled with him to campus. Coran opened every morning with some ridiculous introduction, and half of the time Allura was the one who came up with it for him.

“Is this thing working?” Coran asks, messes with the position of the microphone attached to his lapel. “Can everyone in the back hear me crystal clear?” He shields his eyes from the light, taking the nodding of the students in his back as his cue to get started. Coran definitely could be ridiculous sometimes, but for as crazy as he got, everyone had to love him.

“Well then without further ado, I'm pleased to announce that it’s time for your end-of-term project!” _Ugh, except when he pulls shit like this._

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Coran raises and lowers his arms in the air in an attempt to silence the groans that fill the room. “You’re all probably shaken up a bit. It’s still three months until the end of the term, I know!” Coran clutches at his collar and straightens it. “This project, however will demand that sort of time.”

“Great. Another massive project, just what I need.” Lance whispers to Allura, clear irritation apparent in his voice. She chuckles back in response.

“Just wait, there’s more.”

“Now, while I'll be announcing the full details of this project tomorrow, I'm pleased to announce that this will be a group project!” Coran beams to the room, now filled with excitement as friends turn to each other and begin to stake their claims. Lance turns to Allura with a beaming smile, but she returns a smirk at him, keeping her eyes locked forward to the room.

“Now before all of you get too excited about pairing up...” _Uh oh. “_ ...I’ve assigned your partners for this project.” Coran nods defeatedly with his eyes closed as the room fills with groans once again. _Oh no._ “I understand that some of you may be upset about that, but we’re going to use this as an opportunity for you to get to know each other, and learn how to work as a team!” _Great._ “Some of the best pieces of art are created through collaboration, you know!” Coran beams with a firm nod, sticking his index finger into the air for emphasis. “Now onto today’s lecture, today we’re talking about the rule of thirds!”

Lance groans as he slumps further into his seat, and tunes out the fluctuating speech emanating from the front of the room. _Just great._ This project would’ve been so easy if he and Allura just automatically could’ve worked together, but now it's up to chance. God, he hopes he’s paired with Allura. What better way is there to spend the next couple months than with his best friend, taking pictures? Maybe he could even live up to his dreams of being yearbook editor in high school, and take pictures of her cheerleading.

Lance used to have a massive crush on Allura when they first sat next to each other in the graphic design class they shared last semester. She’s just so pretty, with her long, silver dyed-hair and beautiful, shimmery turquoise eyes that frame her face perfectly. It’s a mystery how anyone couldn’t fall for her. As they grew closer to one another, Lance’s crush developed more and more and more, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask her out right before Thanksgiving break. She let him down gently, and although that Thanksgiving break was a lot more sulky than usual, he was able to move past it and understand that the two of them were better as friends. Better being friends who could work on three-month photography projects together… _For the love of god, please let me luck out this time!_

 

* * *

 

After another couple of exhausting hours spent learning about the grid on the camera, Coran finally shut his laptop.

“Alright class, that’s gonna do us for lecture today!” Coran claps his hands together, seemingly intending to wake everyone up. “I’ve decided to give you and your assigned partner a chance to meet before I give the details of your projects tomorrow, so be sure to check the bulletin board in the hallway for your assigned groups!” he signals with his hand toward the door before raising his hand into a wave. “Until next time then!”

The entire room of students suddenly rose at the same time, and began crowding the stairs up toward the exit of the lecture hall. Lance _needs_ to get out there to make sure Allura is his partner _as soon as possible_ . He can’t stand the anticipation and anxiety of the make or break partnership he’s gonna have with this project. _It has to be Allura. Who else could it be besides Allura?_

“Excuse me-” Lance says as he squeezes through two people on the stairwell. “Pardon me-” he reaches the top of the staircase, but is stuck behind the growing cluster of people surrounding the doorway. “Lancey Lance, coming through!” Lance finally shoves himself into the hallway, but still can’t see the paper with the groups due to everyone crowding around it. He catches sight of Allura, getting close to the bulletin board on the other side of the cluster of people. _Perfect. She’ll be able to see that we’re partnered together, and let me know._

Allura finally reaches the bulletin board, and the look of excitement on her face gives Lance a massive sense of relief. _Thank goodness, Coran decided not to be a hardass and pair his niece with her best friend._ Lance rushes around to the other side of the cluster of people to meet her there, but as soon as she catches sight of him, she looks down at the floor, her face suddenly turning grim.

“Allura? What’s wrong? Having second thoughts about working with me?” Lance asks, lightly gripping her shoulders in concern. Allura doesn’t break her gaze with the floor before speaking up.

“I’m sorry Lance…” Allura mutters before looking over her shoulder at the sheet of paper on the bulletin board, now clearly within Lance’s view. Lance scoffs. _She can’t be serious right? Why wouldn’t she want to work with me?_

Lance nudges his way a little closer to the bulletin board to see what she’s so upset about. He glances down the list of first and last names placed next to each other on a table, and catches sight of Allura’s name, _and next to hers is… oh no._

 

_But if Allura is someone else’s partner than who is…_

 

_Oh no. Fuck no._

 

_NO._

 

Adjacent to the box which held the name Lance McClain, was a box that held the name of the last person on planet Earth that Lance would ever want to work with.

 

_Keith Kogane._

 

Lance glances around the room, seeing pairs of other students chatting and exchanging phone numbers. He quickly darts his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the mullet-headed jerk that sits in the back of the lecture hall every single fucking day, but sees that he is nowhere to be found.

 

_Fuck my life._

 

* * *

 

Keith never liked group projects. He was always the type who just worked better alone. There was no one to bother you, no one to question the shit you produced, no micromanaging that needed to be done, no trouble at all. The only person responsible for making sure shit got done was yourself, no trust in other people necessary.

But now as Keith sits in the back of the lecture hall, taking notes from the ridiculous orange haired professor in front of him about the rule of thirds, he has to laugh to himself a little bit. A group photography project? What a joke. What does he make out all of his students to be, children? You don’t need partners to take some measly photographs over the course of a couple of months; that’s a task that’s easily just as accomplishable, if not more, working alone. It’s nothing like the massive physics and calculus group projects he’s had both this semester and last, requiring loads of math and essay bullshit. Those, he can understand having a couple of other people to spread out the workload, but this? Just a bunch of pictures?

Keith sighs as the professor wraps up the presentation, quickly closing his notebook and tucking it back into his small black backpack. As long his partner isn’t some obnoxious dick that cares about putting his personal touch on every single damn picture, he should be fine. After all, photography is just a liberal arts requirement for his aerospace engineering degree. As long as he passes the class, what he produces here really doesn’t matter. Maybe his partner will just be willing to do everything themselves, or just let him do everything. As long as the contact between them is minimal, and they produce something at the end of three months, working with a partner will at least be tolerable.

Once Keith notices the professor wrapping up, he quickly rises from his spot and heads for the door. He’s eager to rush off to the library and just spend some time alone in the basement before his C++ class later in the afternoon. It takes a lot of effort to just be around all of these outgoing arts students, and sometimes he just can’t handle it.

As Keith begins to head toward the door of the arts building, he passes by the bulletin board outside and notices his name on a piece of paper hanging there. Keith glances to the top of paper and sees “End of Term Project Partners” printed across the top. He quickly darts his eyes back down to his name and sees

 

_No._

 

_You’ve got to be fucking joking._

 

_Fucking LANCE McCLAIN?_

 

Keith pulls on his raven-black hair in frustration before bolting to the door. Of course, of course he had to be paired with none other than Lance _fucking_ McClain. The showboaty socialite that announces his presence whenever he enters the fucking room. The one that’s always complaining about Keith getting higher scores on his photography essays. The one that always sits in the front of the fucking lecture like a teacher’s pet. The one that always interrupts the professor’s lectures to ask questions. The one that most certainly will _insist_ that they have to work together on the project instead of separate and alone. Of all of the people in that damn lecture hall, it had to be Lance. _Of course it had to be Lance._

Keith’s feet mindlessly carry him to the information desk of Oriande Library as the torrent of his emotions ravaged inside his head. _Of course they brought him here._ One of the few people that Keith can vent to works here, and that’s none other than-

“Keith?” Shiro, Keith’s adoptive older brother asks, “You okay? You look a little bit-”

“Pissed off? It’s cuz I am.” Keith snaps back, throwing his hands down onto the surface of the information desk.

“Did Dr. Arus assign another lab report?” Shiro asks, continuing to scan books from the return bin.

“No, it’s something a _lot_ fuckin’ worse.” Keith nearly shouts, leaning towards Shiro to emphasize his frustration.

“Three things.” Shiro says holding up three fingers. “One, language.” He puts down a finger, “Two, this is a library, please calm down.” He puts down another, “and three, what could be worse than a lab report?” He looks up and Keith with a puzzled look on his face. “They’re like the only things that piss you off this mu-.”

“It’s a group project in photography. _Photography_.” Keith snaps, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, what’s so bad about that?” Shiro continues scanning books, clearly not understanding the severity of the situation.

“My partner is the most _ridiculous_ guy in the whole class.”

“Oh really?” Shiro asks, setting down the last returned book on the cart, and turning to give his full attention to Keith. “How so?”

“He’s always telling people good morning and asking questions and complaining about not doing well enough…” Keith responds as a knowing smirk grows on Shiro’s face. “He’s just really annoying, and working with him on this project will be hell.” Keith spits aggressively, shooting his glance off to the side and wanting to knock that stupid smirk off of Shiro’s face.

“Keith.” Shiro says after a pause, “You kn-”

“Look Shiro, I didn’t come here for you to give me an _‘older brother’_ talk.” Keith rolls his eyes, arms still crossed tightly across his chest.

“Keith, mom and dad and I specifically encouraged you to come to Garrison University to get out of your shell and help you learn how to socialize and trust people again.” Shiro explains, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “From what it sounds like, this partner of yours may help you with that.” Keith pauses for a moment, staring into Shiro’s honest eyes.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help.” Keith shrugs Shiro’s hand off of his shoulder, and spins on his heels and heads for the door. He’s got somewhere else to be anyways, he doesn’t have to listen to Shiro lecturing him on his social life for the umpteenth fucking time. He’s perfectly content with his social life the way it is. No obligations, no chit-chat, no need for trusting other people with shit he’s capable with on his own. _Why does this Lance guy have to come in now and fuck all that up?_ _What did I do to deserve this?_

 

* * *

 

Keith rushes across campus to the computer science building, and makes it into his C++ lab right on time, crashing down in front of his assigned computer right as the clock hits noon.

“Keith, not here early? I’m shocked.” says Pidge, the sole acquaintance he’s made in all of his classes, from the seat next to him. Pidge and Keith naturally drifted together over the course of the last semester, being in the same major and having practically all of their classes together. Keith knew that whenever he worked with Pidge on a project, it would go smoothly. Both he and Pidge had the same independent-but-together style of getting stuff done, and it always made getting through labs and projects so much easier. _God what I wouldn’t kill right now to have Pidge as my partner for that stupid fucking photography project…_

“Hello? Earth to Keith?” Pidge waved her hand in front of Keith’s face, snapping him out of his derailing train of thought. “Rough morning or what?”

“You could _definitely_ say that.” Keith says with a scoff, logging into the computer and pulling up the coding software.

“Don’t tell me Arus assigned _another_ lab report... “ Pidge says with a groan, “we _just_ finished one last we-”

“It’s _not_ a lab report.” Keith snaps, “God, why does everyone think that’s why I’m pissed off?”

“Well you don’t get pissed off that often.” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses. “Annoyed, moody, depressed? Yes. Pissed off? No.” Pidge leans closer to Keith. “It takes something really bad to put you in this kinda mood.”

“Wow.” Keith snorts, “Sounds like you know more about me than I do myself.”

“I’m observant.” Pidge responds flatly, before returning to her computer. “So what’s up?”

“We got a group project dumped on us in my photography class.” Keith rants, typing up this week’s assigned code.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, and you’ll never guess who I got fucking paired with.”

“Try me.” Pidge says with a smirk.

“Lance fucking McClain.”

“Double Ouch.” Pidge responds, picking up her typing. “Yeah, I can see why you’re upset about that.”

“Thank you!” Keith says with emphasis, “I tried to complain to Shiro and all he did was tell me the usual, ‘this is a chance to get out of your comfort zone’ bullshit.” Keith mocks, testing his code and sighing in frustration when it doesn’t work.

“I mean- yes!” Pidge says, fist pumping when she tests her code and it works on the first try.  
She turns her body away from the computer screen, and gives her full attention to Keith. “Shiro does have a point you know.”

“I don’t want to hear it Pidge.” Keith groans before slamming his head down on the keyboard, and messing up his sloppily written code.

“Keith, did you even talk to the guy?” Pidge asks, glaring at Keith, and taking his silence as a no. “Not a single word after class?” Pidge facepalms in disbelief as Keith shakes his head in response.

“Look Keith, I get it.” Pidge says, crossing her arms across her chest. “Lance is an extrovert and can be a bit over the top sometimes, but the least you can do is not make premature judgement and give him a chance.” Keith sighs in response. Pidge does have a point. It’s not a point he wants to hear, but she has a point nonetheless.

“...and besides,” Pidge continues, “if it comes down to it, I’m sure you could always request a change of partners if Lance is just unbearable for you.”

“Fine.” Keith says, sighing in defeat. “I’ll… give him a chance, and talk to him after class tomorrow.” Keith shakes his head, before erasing all of his code and starting over. Pidge smirks at him and nods in satisfaction, turning back to her computer to begin the week’s homework.

As much as Keith hates to admit it, Pidge is always fucking right. She always knows how to reroute his anger and frustration and convince him to do things he mentally vowed to never do. She does have a point here though. Maybe Lance isn’t as obnoxious as his public persona makes him out to be. Maybe he will just agree to work independently alongside Keith and just submit their components together at the end. Maybe he’ll agree that this dumb project doesn’t have to be complicated. _Maybe he’ll agree that this stupid photo project is nothing more than just a waste of time._

 

_Who am I kidding…_

 

* * *

 

“...and what’s your name little lady?” Lance smirks with his eyebrows raised, standing behind the Starbucks counter with a cup and Sharpie marker in his hands.

“Plaxum.” The girl on the other side of the counter says with a giggle as Lance’s eyes open in confusion. “Just put down Penny.” She shakes her head and chuckles. Lance quickly scribbles her name onto the side of the cup, passing it to Allura to make.

“It’ll be up shortly, thank you!” Lance turns to greet the next customer, but is met instead with the lumbering figure of his roommate.

“Hey Lance,” Hunk says, “You said you wanted to chat about something?”

“Yeah, I did.” Lance nods and quickly turns his head to Allura. “Ally, you good to take your break with me right now?”

“I just need to finish making this drink and I should be fine, yeah.” Allura responds with a smile, pouring steamed milk out of a metallic pitcher and into the cup.

“Sounds good.” Lance smiles, turning to Hunk. “Want anything? It’s on me.” Lance says, leaning close and wiggling his shoulders, “ _employee discount.”_

“I’ll just take a plain coffee.” Hunk responds with a chuckle, “Thanks Lance.”

“No problemo, it’s what friends do!” Lance beams a smile, before turning around and quickly preparing drinks for Hunk, Allura, and himself, taking a bit of extra time to make sure each one is perfect.

Once finished, Lance rushes out into the seating area of the cafe, slumping down into the seat across the table from Hunk and Allura. He slides their drinks over to them and heaves over with a sigh, letting his head collide with the surface of the table.

“Guys, I’m so fucked.”

“What’s it this time?” Hunk snorts, “Can’t afford tickets to the Shakira concert?”

“Huuunk” Lance whines. “This is serious! It’s make or break, pass or fail, _life or death_!” Lance slams his head back down onto the table in defeat. Hunk turns his head to look at Allura, who sighs.

“My uncle assigned a fairly large group project in photography and Lance was partnered with…” Allura struggles to find the right words ”...an unfavorable candidate.”

“Unfavorable?” Lance chuckles sarcastically. “He’s the worst possible person I could’ve been paired with!” He groans in frustration.

“Come on, he can’t be that bad.” Hunk suggests. Lance looks him dead in the eye.

“Hunk.” Lance says, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. He always sits in the back of the class and avoids conversations with everyone. He’s the only person in the class who’s _never_ even returned a ‘hello’ to me.” Lance speaks with his hands for emphasis. “ _Plus,_ he’s always got the best scores in the class and sits all smug as they’re read out after every exam.” Lance huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “He’s just a big _jerk_.”

“Lance,” Allura says with a sigh. “Don’t you think you’re being just a _bit_ melodramatic?”

“Yeah.” Hunk echoes. “Did you even talk to this guy before you started flipping out?”

“W-Well no, but-”

“See, you don’t even know what the guy’s like. You’ve never even talked to him.” Hunk says pointedly and Lance sighs in defeat.

“You’ve got a point, big guy…”

“Lance, you always talk about believing in second chances and all that…” Allura says after taking a sip of her coffee. “...why don’t you give Keith one? Maybe he’s not that bad of a guy underneath his hard exterior.”

“God, Ally, why do you always have to make so much sense.” Lance groans as he lets his chin rest on the table once again.

“It’s my job.” Allura says with a wink, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Fine... I’ll talk to him first thing tomorrow morning.” Lance says, laying his head sideways on the table’s smooth but sticky surface. _Assuming he actually acknowledges me, that is…_

“That’s the spirit!” Allura beams, getting up from her seat to throw her empty coffee cup away and head back to work.

“Well Lance, as much as I’d like to be a good friend and listen to you wallow in self-pity, I’ve got a class to get to.” Hunk rises from his chair, and pats Lance on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright. You’ll survive.”

 

_God I hope so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated <3


	2. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for the beta!

** Week 1 - Tuesday **

_“I I I WANNA GO OH OH ALL THE WAY AY AY”_

 

Lance’s eyes fly open at the sound of his alarm, quickly shooting a gaze towards his alarm clock and...

9:14AM.

_SHIT_

Lance throws himself off of the bed and rushes over to his closet, quickly grabbing a set of clothes that look somewhat decent together and throwing them on. He swings his bag over his shoulder, throws his keys and phone into his pocket, and races out of the dorm toward the arts building.

He has no idea how he could’ve possibly slept through all of his alarms. Lance almost _always_ wakes up to Ke$ha’s techno voice emanating from his phone at 8AM, and if that somehow didn’t work, Nicki’s bars always woke him up at 8:30, guaranteed. He’s only had to rely on Britney _one_ time before, and that was after he and Hunk stayed up a little too late watching that god awful Sharknado movie. It’s something he definitely wants to forget about.

 _Shit._ He forgot about getting to class early to talk to Keith.

Lance quickens his pace, nearly jogging at this point, in hopes of at least being able to make it to the lecture hall before Coran came in. That would give him at least a couple of minutes to introduce himself to Keith like he promised he would yesterday. It really shouldn’t take more than two minutes to figure out if Keith was serious about this project or not, and if he can just _get there in time…_

“Good morning everybody!” Lance says with bravado after pushing the doors of the lecture hall open. The same hundreds of eyes turn around to face him, however this time, the room is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Lance notices one additional stare coming from the front of the lecture hall: a set of eyes resting between a flourishing mustache and disapproving orange eyebrows.

“Good morning Mr. McClain!” Coran calls back out toward him, the filled room still remaining in silence. “You’re just in time to take a seat and learn more about your _big_ end of term project.” Coran smoothly says with a smirk as scattered whispers and murmurs begin to fill the room. Lance hastily nods and quickly makes his way down the stairs of the lecture hall to plop himself into the only open seat next to Allura.

“Alright photography professionals, I hope you all have had time to get acquainted with your partners for your project!” Coran beams, clasping his hands together. “I’m sure some of you are on the path to becoming friends already!”

Lance wishes he could feel the same excitement about his partner. Not only was Keith the _worst_ possible person to be paired with, but he bailed from the building before Lance could even get a chance to talk with him yesterday. Then, of course, like the idiot Lance is, he stayed up late enough worrying about his conversation with Keith, planning it through in his head hundreds of times, that he slept through his alarms and missed his opportunity. _Why does fate hate him so much?_

“Now it’s time to reveal what I trust all of you to accomplish through the power of teamwork, your end of term project!” Coran extends his arm and signals toward the PowerPoint presentation on the wall of the lecture hall, where a short bullet-pointed list greets the silent, anxious eyes in the room:

_Photographic Story Portfolio:_

_-Portfolio of photos that tells a chronological story._

_-Minimum of 350 photos._

_-Collaborative work required._

_-Due three months from today._

Lance began to quickly scribble the details of the project down into a blank page of his notebook, placing his pencil down with a sigh as he slumps down into his seat. This project is manageable, and would be reasonably easy if he didn’t have such a jerk for a partner. Lance hated that his success in the class now relied upon Keith. How is it fair that someone who’s so anti-social, anti-people, _anti-kindness_ gets paired with him, while many of the other students in the class get to work with their friends. Hell, Lance would’ve been fine with at least another stranger- he definitely would have been able to work with them smoothly. Lance is a _people person_ , he knows how to get along with most people. However if this semester has shown him anything, it’s that Keith Kogane isn’t like most people.

_"You don’t even know what the guy’s like. You’ve never even talked to him.”_

_“Maybe he’s not that bad of a guy underneath his hard exterior.”_

The words of his friends from the day before echo through Lance’s mind. They do have a point: it’s a bit wrong to judge Keith solely based upon his preconceptions of who he is, without even talking to the guy…

“You look like a mess this morning,” Allura whispers in Lance’s ear with concern, “Rough night?”

“You could say that I guess,” Lance sighs, noticing Allura raising a questioning eyebrow. “I stayed up worrying about _this_ mess last night,” He mutters, signaling towards the bullet-pointed list with his hands. Allura takes one of his hands into her own, and holds onto it softly.

“Lance, you’ll be fine,” she says, squeezing his hand slightly, “Just try your best to be nice, and let things go from there.” Allura smiles at Lance reassuringly. She’s right as always, he’ll be okay. He just needs to try and be nice, and not let Keith’s rough personality get to him. If he’s just patient, maybe things will work out.

Lance sneaks a glance to the back of the room, spotting Keith in the same seat he’s sat in all semester, and sighs with anxiety. Maybe if he gets to the back of the room as quickly as possible, he can catch Keith and talk to him about the project before he leaves. All he knows is that he’s gotta talk to him and soon, there’s no time to waste. _God I hope this goes well._

“I’ll try. Thanks Ally,” Lance whispers back to Allura, forcing himself to smile.

“My pleasure,” Allura hums, giving Lance’s hand another soft squeeze before picking up her pencil again.

“Right, hope you all have had enough time to jot all of that down!” Coran moves back over toward his laptop with a firm nod. “Now be sure to get started on this project right away! Trying to take that many quality photos in a weekend is impossible.” He says, exaggerating certain words with his hands like he always does. ”Now, onto today’s lecture. Today we’re going to learn about how to utilize perspective in your fantastic photographs!”

Lance quietly writes down the things Coran says with uneasy anticipation, knowing that as soon as this lecture ends, he’ll need to confront Keith. It’s all about building up that confidence to do it: to confront the biggest jerk in the class, who he’s unfortunately been paired with, to tell him that they should find a way to work together. _You can do this, Lance. You can do this._ Lance dares to shoot a glance back at Keith one last time, and is met with his steely, purple eyes glaring right back down at him. _Okay…_ maybe _you can do this._

* * *

 

Keith rolls his eyes as he notices Lance McClain staring up at him for the fifteenth fucking time this lecture. He can tell that Lance feels uneasy about being paired with him on this project, and Keith can only hope that his posture projects his same disdain about the whole situation back to Lance. The last thing he needed on top of all of his engineering bullshit was to be paired with the over-the-top socialite on a massive photography project that won’t even help him in his future.

“Well folks, that appears to be the end of our lesson today!” Keith looks up from his notebook to see Coran walking around the room with his hands clasped together. Keith quickly shuts his notebook in anticipation. _Awesome. Time to pack u-_

Shit, Keith forgot he told Pidge he’d try and talk with Lance today. He groans slightly before slumping back down into his seat. Knowing Lance, he’ll probably try to immediately rush back here and try to talk to him, so there’s no point in trying to meet him halfway. After all, Keith only promised Pidge that he’d talk to Lance, not that he’d put any effort into it.

Keith crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a deep sigh. God, he hopes that this conversation doesn’t dive off the deep end. The last thing he needs is Lance making this project such a bigger deal than it is. They could so easily just take 175 pictures a piece, place them together at the end, and not have to interact more than necessary. _It doesn’t have to be complicated._

The filled room suddenly begins to rise and crowds the stairwells, leaving Keith a clear view of the lanky, extroverted boy staring intently up at him from the front of the lecture hall. He looked anxious and irritated at the same time, edging his way past people and up the stairs, obviously trying to get back to Keith as quick as possible. As much as Keith hated people, he could at least be thankful for their physical presence delaying Lance’s arrival right now.

Keith uses the extra time to pack the rest of his stuff into his backpack. He finishes just as Lance reaches the top of the staircase and rushes over to Keith’s seat at the back of the lecture hall. _Well, can’t avoid it any longer now…_

“Hey, you’re Keith right?” Lance asks with a tone that suggests he already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Keith responds flatly. Lance shudders a bit at the coldness of his response, but still takes a seat next to him. _I just gotta scare him away, maybe then he’ll not want to work with me._

“Cool, the name’s Lance, and I didn’t know if you knew this but-”

“We’re partners for that dumb project, I know.” Keith cuts him off, keeping his gaze down towards the front of the room, where Coran was now starting to pack up his things.

“Yeah, I-I guess it is kinda dumb, but we’re stuck doing it so…” Lance stutters a bit, and scratches the back of his neck.

“So… what?” Keith turns his head to look at Lance, sensing those same conflicting emotions of fear and irritation swirling in his bright blue eyes.

“So, we’ve gotta plan this stuff out together, you know. We’re partners after all.” Lance suggests with a shrug, lowering his eyebrows slightly to communicate his seriousness. Keith rolled his eyes before turning his full body to face Lance.

“Look, I work better alone,” Keith spits. “How about we each take our own photos and piece it together at the end, deal?” This was the moment of truth: whether Lance would make the next three months of Keith’s life easy, or a living hell.

“No deal Keith. This is a group project, and I’m not doing this alone.” Lance’s tone takes a harsh turn as he points a finger in Keith’s face.

“Well you’re just gonna have to, because I’m not working with you.” Keith turns around, giving Lance the cold shoulder as he rises from his chair. Of course this asshole doesn’t understand. Of course he picked the hard route. _I should’ve known all along._

“Coran!” Lance shouts from behind him, causing Keith to stop and turn back around toward the lecture hall. Coran stops right before exiting through the door, and spins on his heels to address Lance.

“What is it, Mr. McClain?” Coran shouts back, walking slightly back into the room. Lance begins to race down the stairs of the lecture hall back toward the floor.

“I need a new partner for the project,” Lance says, the anxiousness clear in his panicked tone.

“No can do, my boy,” Keith hears Coran respond, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders in response. This isn’t his problem, hell, he doesn’t even belong in this class. He’s not a pretentious art student, he’s a STEM major with a lot more shit to worry about then a bunch of fucking photos. It’s not his fault Lance is being difficult and insisting that Keith, the introvert with no friends and social anxiety has to work with him directly on this project. He just doesn’t understand how much easier it is for the both of them to work independently. How he doesn’t understand that, the world may never know, but it’s not Keith’s problem. Keith begins to head for the door, before a certain accented voice stops him.

“Mr. Kogane, you need to be in this discussion as well!” Coran shouts back at him. Keith turns around and sees Coran and Lance standing side by side, staring up at him. “Come,” Coran says, signalling with his hand. Keith rolls his eyes, and sluggishly makes his way down to the front of the room.

“Alright now. It’s clear to me you two have some problems to work through together here,” Coran says, placing his hand on both Lance and Keith’s shoulder. Keith jumps a bit in response to the unanticipated touch. “But you two will need to work through it and soon. This project needs a full three months to place together and form a cohesive story between the both of you.”

“Why can’t we just work alone on this stupid project?” Keith snaps before quickly closing his mouth at an irritated stare from Coran.

“Mr. Kogane, as much as I know you do not like being enrolled in my class, I would prefer it if you did not insult my curriculum.” Keith crosses his arms across his chest and looks down at the floor in defeat. Coran clears his throat before continuing. “Collaboration is key on this project. The best photographic stories are developed through careful teamwork and thoughtful planning. Solo work just will not do.” Coran ruffles his collar and crosses his arms across his chest in some sort of pride. _It’s all just buzzwords, he doesn’t fucking know what works best for me._

“And, Mr. Kogane,” Keith glances up from the floor to see Coran leaning in close to his face. “I know you have a habit for often going out on your own, but that will not do for this project.” Coran shakes his head and waves an index finger in disapproval. “Your portfolio must explicitly show work from both members of the team. Every photographer has a distinct style, and I will be able to tell if a majority of the photographs originated from only one of you.” He signals back and forth between Keith and an increasingly impatient and irritated Lance.

“Coran, _please,_ ” Lance whines, placing his palms together, “It’s obvious Keith doesn’t want to work in a team.” He sticks his arm out towards Keith and shakes it in the air for emphasis. “Pairing us together _must_ have been some kind of mistake, this won't work out!” Keith scoffs and begins to turn around to head out. _Screw Lance._ Keith knew he was wrong for thinking this guy was gonna just go along with what he had to say. Why did he ever listen to Pidge in the first place? He should’ve just stuck to his original, tried and true saying: don’t trust people. They can’t be trusted. You can’t give them the benefit of the doubt. All they’re going to do is hate you, dislike you, mislead you, embarrass yo-

“Mr. Kogane, I’m not finished with you.” Keith turns around to see Coran motioning for him to come back, which he does with a groan. _What else is there to say?_

“Mr. McClain, this was no mistake. In fact, pairing you two together was intentional on my part!” Coran beams, ruffling his collar _yet again_ and closing his eyes in pride.

“WHAT?” Lance and Keith both shout, shooting disbelieving eyes at each other and their ridiculous professor.

“Remember what I said in lecture today about perspective? About how changing how you see things can create better results?” Lance and Keith slowly nod, to which Coran smirks in response. “The social butterfly being paired with the social outcast? It was the perfect opportunity in my mind for the both of you to get some new perspective on how the other half lives!” Keith and Lance stare in disbelief at Coran’s words. This pairing is nothing other than a fucked up _experiment_?

“Coran-”

“Alright I need to go boys, faunatonium’s calling!” Coran cuts Lance off, and races for the door to the lecture hall, leaving the two boys standing alone. They find themselves staring at each other in stunned silence, before Lance looks down dejectedly at the floor. Keith rolls his eyes and sighs in response, and heads for the door. He’s only about halfway up the stairs before he’s interrupted yet again.

“Keith wait!” Lance’s voice calls after him, his tone slightly uncertain. Keith half-turns around to look at him, an exhausted look on his face.

“Look-” Lance stammers, keeping his eyes glued on Keith’s face. “I get it. This situation is something neither of us want, but it’s just what it’s going to be for the time being so…” Lance sighs. “I’m willing to try and make this work if you are.”

Keith widens his eyes slightly in shock at Lance’s words. He never expected Lance fucking McClain to concede anything to him. He expected to spend the next three months getting nothing done while they avoided each other like the plague. The fact that he’s still willing to work with Keith after the way he’s treated him is fuckin’ crazy. Keith closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Should he really try and trust someone again? _Someone like Lance?_

Keith nods his head slightly in response, and begins to quickly walk up the stairs before he can second guess himself. He places his hands on the door to head out the lecture hall before he’s stopped for the _fourth_ time by Lance calling after him yet again. He turns around to see a paper ball flying towards his face.

“It has my number on it! Text me when you wanna talk about the project!” Lance shouts up the stairs at him. Keith catches the ball, shoving it roughly into his jacket pocket before racing out of the building towards the library. _God, I hope these three months go by quick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story! Kudos and comments appreciated <3


	3. Juxtaposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are coming up, save me T_T
> 
> Thanks to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for the beta once again! :D

**Week 1 - Tuesday**

 

“Wow Keith,” says Pidge, as Keith hastily pushes through the door of the study room at the library. “First you’re late to C++ class, and now a physics study session? What gives?”

“My fucking photography class is what gives,” Keith spits between heaving breaths, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to get as far away from the art building as he fucking could, as fast as he could, so he practically ran the entire way to the library. He settles down into the seat across the table from Pidge, and takes a few deep slow breaths. Although it’s practically impossible at this point to calm the raging storm running through his mind, the least Keith can do is settle the one in his lungs.

“Come on,” Pidge teases, leaning back into her chair and throwing her arms out to the side. “How bad could it possibly have been?”

“It was fucking _awful ,_ ” Keith says with a fierce, wide-eyed stare at Pidge.

“Worse than a Dr. Arus lab report?” Pidge leans closer to Keith, a smirk growing on her face.

“Pidge I’m serious. This was easily the worst class I’ve ever had to fucking sit through. It was so bad that I _know_ that the rest of this semester will be nothing but hell,” Keith explains, growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of sympathy or empathy showing on Pidge’s face. All she does is smirk right back, and that smirk keeps growing larger and larger.

“Oh yeah?” Pidge cocks her head to the side in amusement. “Try me.”

So he does. He tells Pidge about everything. About how Lance kept looking back up at him throughout the whole lecture. About how he came back to him at the end and continued being difficult. About how he ran to the front of the room when Keith didn’t cooperate to beg Coran to switch partners. About how he was prevented from leaving and embarrassed by the professor because of Lance. About how their pairing was intentional and Keith was the subject of some kind of fucked up social experiment. He tells her it all, watching her nod and respond with soft “mhms” as the rage boils up inside of him like a shaken soda can about to explode. The infuriating and embarrassing memory seems to be deeply ingrained into his psyche already. Something he notices that allows him to recap the events smoothly, chronologically, and hastily before he reaches the end and concludes with an exhausted groan, slamming his head down on the table in frustration. He lies there in silence for a few moments, before Pidge’s soft voice breaks the uncomfortable silence filling the room.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow is fucking right,” Keith retorts, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a heavy sigh. He raises his head back up slowly, before continuing. “This is all just so fucking stupid. Fuck Coran, fuck photography, fuck Lance Mc-”

“Keith, I think you’re letting your anger cloud your judgement again,” Pidge says calmly, but firmly, resting her chin onto her folded hands and staring deep into Keith’s eyes with an serious glare. Keith rolls his eyes in response, choosing to let his body language communicate his emotions to his sole acquaintance rather than words. He learned early on in their connection what debating Pidge meant, and he just wasn’t in the mood to put up that kind of fight right now.

“Who’s this professor of yours for photography?” Because if it’s who I think i-”

“It’s Dr. Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe,” Keith says with a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes once again, “but everyone-”

“-insists on calling him Coran, yes I know,” Pidge says with a small chuckle, amused with the confused look that sprouts on Keith’s face.

“But how’d y-”

“Keith, Coran is one of the most respected professors here at this university. He’s a mentor for practically all of the photography majors on campus, and several of his students have gone onto become world-renowned for their work,” Pidge explains firmly, causing Keith to scoff in response.

“And why is any of that important?” Keith narrows his glare at Pidge, crossing his arms across his chest.

“It’s _important,_ ” Pidge emphasizes, “because it shows that this _experiment_ of his could actually help you.” Keith closes his eyes in growing rage. “The guy clearly knows what’s best for all of his underlings.”

“Coran doesn’t-” Keith stammers, frustration and irritation boiling up inside until he snaps. “Coran doesn’t know _shit_ about me!” he shouts, standing up and shoving his chair behind him into the wall in anger. “The only fucking thing he knows about me is my name, not what’s _best for me_ . All I do in that _fucking_ class is sit in the _fucking_ back and take _fucking_ notes.” Keith slams his fist down on the table and points an accusing finger at an irritatingly calm Pidge. “I call so much bullshit on that. This Coran guy doesn’t know _anything_ abo-”

Keith is interrupted by a loud knock on the glass door to the study room. He turns to the right to see an irritated looking Shiro standing on the other side with a finger over his mouth. Keith suddenly feels his face go pale and his mouth go dry, and nods softly before taking a seat once again. He looks down at his hands in his lap and begins to twiddle his thumbs together. _Maybe Pidge is right. Maybe I am just being a bit ridiculous about this whole thing._

“Look Keith, I get it. Group projects, _especially_ with extroverted socialites aren’t your thing...” Pidge casually explains, almost as if Keith’s fiery rant never occurred, helping calm down his exploding nerves even more. “But let’s be real here. Even if you disagree about Coran’s social experiment, there’s not much you can do. You need this class to graduate, and I know you’re not gonna just drop everything and fail the class.” Pidge reaches over and softly places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, causing him to flinch a little. “Get a grip, Keith. This isn’t the end of the world.” Keith looks up slowly to see a soft, supportive smile on Pidge’s face, and takes a deep sigh.

“I-” he stammers, “I guess you make a good point…” he says softly. Of course Pidge is right. She always knows the right things to say to make him question his whole inner being. Keith can’t believe she’s choosing to be an engineer over a therapist or some shit. With how many times she’s channeled his anger into productivity, she’s practically an expert already.

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing it,” Pidge says with a soft nod, still beaming a small, friendly smile at Keith. Keith wonders what he did to deserve to have Pidge in his life. Despite still pushing people out of his life due to mistrust, she stuck around and still helps him figure his shit out. Maybe this 'letting people in' thing could work, _with the right people of course._ Pidge’s smile shifts to a smirk, before she closes her eyes and turns her head to the side.

“Who knows? Maybe you and Lance could even become friends at the end of this thing?” Pidge suggests, shrugging her shoulders in fake innocence. Keith scoffed playfully at the notion, shaking his head.

“Now you’re pushing it.” Keith chuckles, reaching down into his bag to finally pull out his physics textbook.

“Well you did say that he wanted to try and make your partnership work. That’s quite a big step for someone like him,” Pidge says, causing Keith to plunge deep into thought, remaining silent for a little bit, before conceding.

“I guess…”

“...and with less than three months to go, the least you can do this week to help him is kick-off that partnership and start planning your project together,” Pidge suggests, before turning her attention back toward her physics textbook and working on another practice problem. Keith reaches his hand into the pocket of his jacket, and lightly squeezes the scrunched up paper ball containing Lance’s phone number on it. Keith did agree to try and work with Lance back in that lecture hall, this stupid paper ball affirms that. But Keith knows that he can’t go into a meeting with Lance McClain about this project unprepared. _It’ll end up just like it did last time._

“I guess I could reach out to him…” Keith’s voice wavers slightly with uncertainty. “...but I want to have an idea for the project before I talk to him,” he says firmly, “I’m not getting stuck doing something for three months I don’t want to do.”

“ _Well…?_ ” Pidge asks, leaning closer to Keith with an inquisitive glare. “Do _you_ have any ideas for this project?”

“See, that’s the problem,” Keith says with a sigh, “All my ideas are just going to be dumb and he’s gonna shoot ‘em down anyways, so what’s the point?”

“Keith, Keith, Keith,” Pidge says, clicking her tongue and wagging a disapproving finger. “The first rule of brainstorming is that there are no stupid ideas.” She snaps her finger with enthusiasm. “Now, what are some things you’re interested in?”

“I dunno,” Keith scoffs, “Cars?”

“I was thinking things more…” Pidge leans closer to Keith. “ _major specific_.”

“Math?” Keith asks innocently, a slight tinge of annoyance in his tone. He grows frustrated at Pidge’s knowing, impatient face. “I don’t know!”

“Oh my God, Keith,” Pidge groans, clearly irritated at Keith’s denseness. “You’re an aerospace engineering major! You like rockets! Build a model rocket and take pictures of it or something.” Pidge throws her hands up in defeat before going back to work on physics problems.

“Pidge, you’re a genius,” Keith says earnestly, his mouth forming the first small smile he’s shown all week.

“Thanks, I know, now let’s get to work on physics before Dr. Arus assigns us another lab report,” Pidge jokingly demands, opening Keith’s textbook for him to the page she’s on.

“One sec,” Keith says, pulling his phone and the crumpled up piece of paper out of his pockets. “Need to text Lance.”

“ _Keith got Lance’s number~”_ Pidge teases in a sing-song tune. Keith looks up at her and scoffs.

“I take it back, you’re not a genius.”

“Too late!” Pidge beams Keith a big grin in return. Keith quickly shoots Lance a text, before Pidge and Keith collectively groan at the next homework problem on static equilibrium. _This long day is never going to end, is it?_

* * *

 

Lance sits down at the table with his tray of food, heartbroken. He just found out the ice cream machine in the dining hall is broken once again this week. _Of course._ The world has to deny him ice cream on what was shaping up to be one of the worst days of his freshman year. He pushes his tray of food to the center of the table with a groan and lays his forehead on the table’s surface. He tunes out the rest of the world and continues to remember the events of his photography class today, reliving his painful and confusing interactions with Keith Kogane on repeat, searching for any sign from the forces that be that things will be okay and work out. The longer Lance thinks though, the bleaker and bleaker the outcomes seem. _Who am I kidding? It’s hopeless. I’m just going to end up failing and having to drop out o-_

“Jesus dude, are you going for a repeat performance today or something?” Lance jumps at the sudden sound of Hunk’s voice across the table. He shoots his head up to realize that both Hunk and Allura sat down across from him. Lance groans before slamming his forehead back down to the table.

“I could go without your teasing today Hunk, let a guy wallow in peace,” Lance whines, before slowly lifting his body back up straight, and pulling his food tray over to him. He slowly raises a french fry to his mouth and chews it glumly. He brings a second fry to his mouth after a few seconds as Allura clears her throat.

“Lance,” she says with a sigh, “what happened at the end of class?” Her words cause Lance’s posture to slump as he lets out a pained groan.

“Do we really have to talk about it?” Lance pouts, slowly grabbing another french fry off of his plate and bringing it to his mouth.

“Lance, I won’t force you to talk about anything,” Allura says, taking Lance’s non-occupied hand softly into hers, “but you know that talking about your problems with others can sometimes help you find a solution.” She says this with a soft smile, giving his hand her classic reassuring squeeze. “You know Hunk and I are here for you.” Lance looks into Allura’s comforting eyes, and lets out a gentle sigh.

“Well, I tried talking to Keith, and it didn’t go well…” he starts hesitantly, “and I tried to ask Coran if I could switch partners and he… said he paired us together intentionally?” Lance says softly,  a deep confusion present in the tone of his voice. “He said it’s some sort of exercise for us to get a different social perspective or something, I dunno…” he trails off, looking down at the table, nerves building inside him.

“That sounds strange,” Hunk says, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Allura leans over and nudges his shoulder softly.

“ _That_ sounds like my uncle,” Allura observes, knowingly. Lance pauses for a few more moments to compose himself before continuing.

“...so he basically tells us we’re stuck together for the project and runs off. Keith and I just kinda stand there in silence, before he starts to head for the door, but then I-” Lance stammers again, anxiety building up at the memory once again. “I called out to him, and told him that I’d be willing to make it work if he would…” Lance pauses, attempting to calm himself down with slow, deep breaths. “All he did was nod, and it wasn’t a sure nod, it was more of a quick nod, like this.” Lance demonstrates to a listening Allura and Hunk. “Then he tried to take off again, and I panicked, so I quickly wrote my number down on a piece of paper on the podium, crumpled it up and threw it at him.” Lance takes a nervous deep breath. “He shoved in in his pocket, and now I don’t know how to feel…” Lance pulls out his phone and sets it down on the surface of the table, double checking his notifications for the fifth time since class. “He still hasn’t texted me.”

“Wow, that sounds painful my dude,” Hunk says, resting a sympathetic hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance softly shakes his hand off, looking to Allura with a pleading glare.

“Allura _please_ ,” Lance whines. “Working with Keith is just going to be a death sentence. He’s clearly not interested in working with me at all.” He places his palms together and shakes his praying hands in her direction. Please, could you at least try to talk to Coran and see if you can pull some strings for me?”

“I’m sorry Lance,” she sighs, “even if I thought that was remotely fair to everyone else in the class, my uncle doesn’t change his mind once it’s settled on something. He’s very, _very_ stubborn.” Lance’s posture slumps down once again, turning his gaze down to the table in sorrow. “But he often knows what’s best…” Allura says out of the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Lance says with a scoff. “What’s best to make me fail his class…”

“Lance,” Allura says after taking a slow, deep breath. Lance raises his glare up from the table into her shimmery, comforting eyes once again. “I can see how you may think your partnership may seem doomed from your poor interactions with Keith, but there’s good to be had in these uncomfortable situations.”

“Like what?” Hunk asks with curiosity.

“Well, Keith’s an introvert right?” Allura leads, gesturing back and forth between both Lance and Hunk, who both nod. “The fact that he even acknowledged your concession shows a lot about his willingness to cooperate, especially after his behavior earlier.” Lance raises his frown into a straight face, slowly digesting the theory that Allura’s feeding him. “Keep in mind that he caught that paper ball with your phone number in it too.” Allura says with a wink.

“Yeah, well,” Lance scoffs, “for all I know, he probably threw it aw-”

Lance is interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating against the table. The screen lights up and he sees that he has two text messages from an unknown number. He quickly opens them up, feeling slightly hopeful, and nearly shouting in glee when he reads the two messages on his screen.

_(12:04) Hey, its Keith from photography._

_(12:04) I’ve got an idea for the project. Meet me at the library tomorrow at 7._

“Guys he texted me! I can’t believe it!” Lance says with an excited shock. He literally couldn’t believe it. Ever since he left that lecture hall this morning, he had thought he’d never see the day that Keith Kogane would actually follow through and work with him. It wasn’t even in any of the scenarios he thought up late last night either. To be fair, he never thought he’d even get this far but, maybe things won’t be as bad as they first appeared. _Maybe fate’s finally on Lancey Lance’s side!_

“Wow. Allura was right,” Hunk widens his eyes at Lance’s phone, before Allura playfully shoves into his shoulder again, clearing her throat.

“Right _again_ ,” she says with a smirk.

“Right, right. Right again.” Hunk chuckles, before popping open his eyes in confusion. “Wait, did I say that right?” Lance chuckles in response, releasing some of his pent up tension from earlier in the day. It feels good to finally be calm enough to relax a bit…

“So what are you waiting for Lance? Text him back!” Allura jests, poking Lance lightly in the arm to get his attention. Lance snaps his eyes back down to his phone in a panic. _What should I say back?_ _What if I say something wrong and it makes him mad? What if-_

“Lance, you’re panicking again,” Allura sighs, holding his hand reassuringly once again.

“I-” he stammers. “I just don’t know what to say back. I don’t want to screw up the progress we’ve made here already, okay?”

“Just tell him that you’re okay with meeting tomorrow to discuss your ideas together,” Allura suggests with a smile.

“That sounds good,” Lance agrees. He’s halfway through typing the message before a sudden realization hits him and he drops his phone down onto the table.

“What now dude?” Hunk asks.

“I can’t go into a meeting with Keith unprepared! He says he has an idea already!” Lance panics, looking back and forth quickly between his two friends. “I need an idea too so I don’t look like I’m slacking off!”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard right?” Hunk asks, holding his arm into the air in a half shrug. “You’re interested in a lot of things Lance.”

“All things that I’m sure Keith wouldn’t be cool with,” Lance grumbles. Sure, he’s into a lot of different things. _Especially_ anything and everything that has to do with artistic expression. He loves to draw, paint, sculpt, and even carve. Anything related to the fine arts calls Lance’s name. He knows though, that with how Keith reacted to the photography project, the fine arts are the opposite of his thing. He needs a new idea.

“Hey Allura…” he says with a suspicious tone.

“Lance, I’m sorry. I’m not getting my partner or I in trouble for sharing our ideas,” Allura says, firmly shaking her head.

“Aw come on, not even like a concept? A theme?” Lance pleads.

“All I can tell you is that I’m teaching my partner to do something. That’s it,” she says firmly, before starting to dig into her cooled food.

“Teaching something, huh?” Lance ponders, before groaning in frustration. “That won’t work!” From the few interactions Lance has had with Keith, he knows that Keith would absolutely never agree to learn something from Lance. Likewise, he doesn’t think that he’d ever be comfortable trying to learn something from Keith. _I mean it’s Keith, he’ll probably just make fun of me for not understanding anything._ Lance slumps down into his seat further. He’s just gotta think… What else can they do that involves learning something new? If they can’t make their project about learning from each other, maybe they could learn together!

“I’ve got it!” Lance shouts, skidding his chair behind him and throwing his arms down onto the table top. French fries and chicken nuggets from his tray go flying up into the air, one piece of food kerplunking into Hunk’s drink.

“Aw man, Lance…” Hunk whines, shooting a glare up at his friend. “This better be worth it.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance!” Lance speaks as though his words are the biggest revelation in the history of mankind, but Hunk is not impressed.

“So…?” Hunk questions.

“Keith and I both would _obviously_ refuse to learn something from each other right?” Lance looks between Allura and Hunk, who both nod. “So I figure, what if we both learn something together at the same time?” Lance beams a big smile.

“That’s a solid plan,” Hunk says, stroking his chin in intrigue. “But how do you know that Keith already doesn’t know how to dance?”

“Hunk, he’s Keith Kogane. He doesn’t look like he even knows what dance is,” Lance smirks smugly. “Tell him, Allura.”

“Hunk does have a point Lance. You can’t judge a person’s interests solely by their public social facade,” Allura says, taking another bite of her even colder food.

“Psshaw!!” Lance scoffs at them, waving an open hand in dismissal. “You guys are worrying yourselves over nothing! I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” He slides back down into his seat, and types out a response to Keith, excited that everything’s finally coming together.

**(12:08) i’ve got an idea too - see u tmrw**

Lance places his phone down on the table, and kicks back into his chair. He places his arms behind his head, and rests his crossed legs on the surface of the table. He chuckles cockily as his mouth turns upward into a smirk.

“Lancey Lance has got it all under control,” he says suavely, staring at his friends with utmost confidence. Allura and Hunk share a knowing glance with each other, before collectively rolling their eyes and returning to their food.

“Hey!” he shouts, causing Allura and Hunk to break into giggles. Allura collects her dirty dishes together before taking Lance’s hand into her own once more, and giving it one last soft, supportive squeeze.

“Good luck on your project Lance, I know you can do it,” she says with a smile. “I’ll be busy for the next couple weeks preparing for the cheer season. We’ve got a lot of _long_ training days ahead of us,” she says with an exhausted sigh. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need some more advice though. I’m always here with open ears.”

“Thanks, Ally,” Lance responds back with a smile. Allura releases her soft grip on Lance’s hand, stands up with her tray, and leaves.

“Well, I gotta get to my next class too my man. Chemistry calls!” Hunk says standing up as well. Lance says farewell to his roommate and waves goodbye as he walks through the doors of the dining hall, leaving him alone once again. Thankfully this time around, his solitude is not sulky, but rather filled with hope for what’s to come. If he and Keith can just agree on a project, these next three months are in the bag, easy peasy, and free of any more disappointing meals without ice cream at the dining hall. _Well, I guess I can’t really guarantee that one, can I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated <3


	4. Enlarge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I passed my chemistry midterm bless. Still have four more to go, the struggle is real. T_T
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this longer chapter in the meantime to celebrate!
> 
> Thanks once again to [Hanaboosa ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for the beta!

**Week 1 - Wednesday**

 

“Alright!” Lance shouts, placing a cover onto the drink he just made, and turning toward the counter. “I’ve got a dark mocha frappuccino ready for…” he eyes the black handwriting on the side of the cup, reading it several times over in confusion before speaking up. “ _Plyrox?_ ” A large man walks up to the counter and snatches the drink out of his hand.

“It’s Ply-TOX!” he shouts at Lance before turning around with a huff and walking off. Nyma comes up behind Lance chuckling, and places a hand on his shoulder.

“I get his name wrong all the time too,” she giggles. “Don’t sweat it.” Lance chuckles lightly in response as he turns around to face his coworker.

“At least I know for next time, right?” he says to her with a soft shrug and an innocent smile.

“Well, with how many times we’ve collectively messed up that guy’s name, there may not be a next time,” Nyma says with a chuckle as Lance begins to crack up at the situation too.

“Well if he does come back, I’m prepared to make sure there are plenty of next times to come!” Lance says, striking a confident pose, making Nyma laugh. That was one thing Lance was good at; he was good at making light of a rough situation, and he hoped at least, that his friends and coworkers appreciated his can-do sense of humor rather than resent it.

Lance takes the blender jar he used to make the drink and takes it to the sink to spray it clean. Nyma leans on the countertop next to him as she huffs a heavy sigh of relief, no customers in sight.

“Thanks for covering Rolo’s shift tonight, Lance. You made my Friday night _immensely_ easier,” She says with a smile, patting Lance’s shoulder appreciatively.

“Yeah, no problem,” Lance says, placing the empty blender jar on the top of the stack. “Rolo’s still sick?”

“Yeah, some really nasty virus or something,” Nyma says defeatedly, shaking her head and chuckling slightly. “He threw up three times this morning, and his temp has been running at 101 the last few days.”

“Ouch.” Lance winces upon hearing about it. “Tell him to drink plenty of water, and get lots of rest.” He nods, waving a finger in the air for emphasis. “And tell him Dr. Lance McClain hopes for a speedy recovery!” Lance says with a wink, snapping his fingers into finger guns.

“Will do,” Nyma says with a chuckle, before sighing again. “I just hoped he’d be better by tonight. I have no one to go this party with me…” She pouts slightly, looking over toward Lance.

“Sorry Ny,” Lance says with a slight disappointment in his voice. “I’ve gotta meet up with my project partner in a little bit. It’s a can’t-miss kinda scenario.” He shakes his head back and forth and gives Nyma a slight frown. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Why’s that?” she asks. Lance heaves a deep sigh as he scratches the back of his neck.

“My partner’s just kinda difficult to work with, and since I agreed to cooperate, I wanna be sure that I don’t look like I’m slacking or lazy or whatever.” He breaks eye contact with Nyma, staring at the rack of syrup bottles on the counter next to him. “I stayed up sorta late last night researching about my project idea, and I don’t want all of that to go to waste,” Lance says with a slight shake of his head, not telling the entire truth.

Sure, he did stay up late last night, but nothing about it was “sorta” late. He ended up still awake at 4:30AM, nervous and anxious as he printed out brochure after brochure from every dance-related group both on-campus and off. He stayed up so late panicking about being prepared for and worrying about his meeting with Keith that he missed his art history class this morning. While missing _art history_ isn’t the biggest tragedy, Lance knows that he can’t afford to miss another class because of a restless night. God, he hopes his preparation for this meeting tonight makes it go well.

“Gotcha,” she says with a firm nod, checking her watch. “Say, what time does your shift end again?”

“Six, that way I have plenty of time to get over to Oriande,” Lance affirms with a nod, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in added confidence. _Wait_. “Why?”

“Lance,” she says with an uneasy chuckle. “It’s six thirty.” Lance’s eyes burst open in a panic as he quickly begins to pour himself a coffee into a venti cup. He hastily slams a lid on the top of the cup and throws his apron at Nyma, heading toward the door out.

“See you later Ny!” he shouts as he pushes out the front door and begins to _book it_ toward the direction of Oriande Library. _I can’t be late, I just can’t!_

* * *

 

“You’re late,” Lance hears Keith grumble as he pushes through the front door of the library. He quickly glances around the atrium, and finally spots his mullet-headed project partner leaning on the wall next to him, arms crossed and glaring at the floor.

“Hey!” Lance pulls out his phone in protest, quickly glaring at the time resting on the screen. _7:03_. “Only by three minutes!” Keith rolls his eyes and pushes himself off of the wall and begins to walk toward the main floor of the library. Lance follows his path solely with his eyes, before he notices Keith turn to look back at him.

“Well?” Keith scoffs. “You coming or what?” He glares back at Lance with his icy-cold violet eyes. Lance takes a nervous gulp, nodding his head and following in tow behind Keith.

Lance never really considered how intimidating Keith could really be. It was different when they didn’t interact, and it was different when he approached him at the back of the lecture hall. In those situations he had an escape, or at least, he thought he did. Now, he’s stuck with Keith for the next three months, and as hard as it’s gonna be, Lance knows that he can’t give into Keith’s intimidation tactics. He has to find a way to push past them if this is ever going to work. He’s done it plenty of times before with different partners, different classes, and different people. What Lance doesn’t understand however, is why it feels so much harder with Keith. _Why does working with Keith feel so different?_

Eventually Lance follows Keith into one of Oriande’s many study rooms and quietly takes a seat across from him. Lance sets his coffee cup down on the table’s surface, and begins to reach down into his backpack for his project materials.

“You drink coffee?” Keith asks, disgust present in his voice. Lance looks up at Keith with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? What about it?” Lance asks, his voice hinting with slight tones of confusion and irritation. Keith crosses his arms across his chest and huffs.

“Coffee is nasty,” he spits, shaking his head in disapproval. Lance’s mouth turns up into a small smirk.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it man.” Lance shrugs, before returning to his backpack and pulling out all of his printed pages tucked neatly into a manilla folder. “Besides,” he adds on, “for situations like these, I could use the extra energy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith shoots him an angry glare. Lance places his folder down on the surface of the table, before holding up his hands in surrender.

“Chill dude,” he says with a breath, “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about this project in general. It’s gonna be a lot of work...” Keith’s posture slightly slumps, seeming to calm down at Lance’s words. Lance breathes a small sigh of relief before continuing. “Which means that we need to get started as soon as possible,” Lance says with flourish, opening his manilla folder, “and thankfully, Lance McClain is _always_ prepared.”

Lance begins to spread out the brochures and leaflets he printed out the night before about every dance studio and group on campus. Every sheet of paper had things underlined and circled firmly in red ink, things that Lance deemed as important, like meeting times and locations. Lance even took extra caution last night and aggressively underlined every ‘no experience required’ that appeared on the brochures. He did it with the hope that it would be _the_ extra work that convinced Keith to go forward with his plan.

Keith begins to scan his eyes across the various brochures, his face scrunching up in what appears to be disapproval and confusion. Lance opens his mouth to speak up, before Keith speaks first.

“Lance, this is a photography project,” Keith says with an aggressive sigh. “You _do_ know that right?” He asks, leaning slightly closer to Lance with an inquisitive eye.

“Of course I do!” Lance scoffs back, before composing himself. _Don’t play into his hands Lance._ “My idea was for us to learn how to dance together, and take pictures of our sick new moves along the way,” Lance explains, signaling back and forth to the various brochures on the table. He’s careful to hold his glare down at the table, and not look up into Keith’s eyes. “I printed out the brochure of every dance group both on and off campus last night, and as you can see here, many of the-”

“I don’t dance,” Keith says firmly, adding emphasis to each word spoken, and causing Lance to lift his head up to meet his glare. Keith’s cold, violent eyes glare back at him underneath his low-resting furrowed eyebrows, causing a chill to run up Lance’s spine. Lance takes another deep breath to build up his confidence, before throwing himself back into his chair and raising his arms up in an attempt at an easy-going shrug.

“Come on Keith, it’ll be fun! We’ll both learn something new and make a neat project at the same time,” Lance tries to explain, growing increasingly nervous the longer Keith’s expression remains unchanged. “We can razzle dazzle the class on two fronts! What’s not cool about that?” Keith lightly chuckles in response before crossing his arms across his chest and shooting his glare down to the table.

“You didn’t hear me, did you?” Keith spits before slamming his hand down on the table’s surface and looking back up at Lance. “Read my lips. I. Don’t. Dance.” Lance trembles slightly at Keith’s aggression, before finally snapping.

“Oh yeah?” Lance shouts in response, standing up from his chair and pointing an accusing finger at Keith. “Well then, let's hear your genius idea Mr. Read-My-Lips!” Keith smirks slightly in response, clearly satisfied that he got a rise out of Lance.

“I want to build a model rocket,” Keith says as Lance scoffs in protest. “What?”

“Dude, are you kidding?” Lance sneers, signaling up and down his body with an open hand. “Lance McClain? Art major? A.K.A. someone who knows jack shit about how to build a rocket?” Lance is about to continue protesting, before Keith holds up a hand signaling for Lance to stop.

“That’s the point. I build the rocket, and you take the pictures.” Keith explains with a shrug, looking back up at Lance like it’s obvious. Lance scoffs in response.

“Nuh-uh, nope! That’s not a group project!” Lance protests, as Keith stands up in response.

“Is too!”

“No it’s not, Keith!” Lance throws his arms out to the side in aggression. “You building a rocket for fun and making me do all the work is not us working together, and you know it!”

“Ugh!” Keith groans in frustration, slamming his hand down onto the table. “Why do you have to be so extra about this whole thing?!”

“Why do you have to be so goddamn lazy?” Lance responds, noticing Keith’s face contort in intense anger.

“You take that back!” Keith shouts, pointing a finger in Lance’s face. Lance turns his mouth upward into a smirk, before pushing their argument over the boiling point with his next three words.

“Make me, mullet.”

Keith picks up Lance’s half-full coffee cup, removes the lid, and throws it at him, covering Lance’s clothes and all of the pamphlets on the table in coffee. Keith throws the empty cup down onto the floor, and storms out of the study room, slamming the door behind him on the way out.

Lance stands there in shock, lukewarm coffee dripping from the ends of his fingers onto the floor. He stares down at the pamphlets resting on the table’s surface. The papers now sport saturated, dark coffee stains, the red ink Lance meticulously used bleeding out in aggressive and jagged streaks across their surfaces.

Lance sighs in defeat, and slumps down into the wet seat that he sat in only minutes ago, when everything was still going okay. He did the one thing he told himself again and again to not do. He gave into Keith’s tactics. He gave into Keith’s intimidation. Most of all, he gave into Keith’s anger, and his coffee soaked clothes symbolized his desperate failure. _At least the coffee wasn’t still hot_ …

Lance’s train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the door of the study room. A second later, a staff of the library pushes through, opening his eyes wide in shock at the scene in front of him. Lance notices ‘Takashi’ printed onto his name tag, but Lance knows the black and white haired man better as Shiro, the smartest senior in the entire university, and his idol. Shiro opens his mouth to speak, but isn’t quite sure what to say, before Lance quickly speaks up in apology.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ll get this cleaned up as quick as I can!” Lance says, hastily collecting his saturated brochures into his equally soaked manilla folder. Shiro shakes his head and rolls his eyes in response, but something tells Lance that it’s not directed at him.

“Keith Kogane stormed out of here right?” Shiro asks with an annoyed sigh, and Lance slowly nods his head in response, carrying the soaked papers over to the trash can and throwing them away. “He’s always causing some sort of trouble around here.” Shiro says with a soft chuckle, before grabbing a few paper towels out of a dispenser in the corner of the room. “Here, let me help you out.” Lance nods with appreciation in response, and starts to help Shiro wipe down the table. God, if only Shiro could help him clean up this mess of a project, Lance would be set for life. _A man can dream…_

* * *

 

Keith collapses onto his bed face first, and groans in irritation. Why did Lance have to make this project and his life such a living hell? Keith thought his proposal was fucking ridiculous, and to be fair it was; just being _around_ Lance for planning out the project is socially exhausting enough. Having to go with him multiple times a week to _public_ dance lessons? Having to dance among and in front of other people, _with Lance_? It would be too much, too extra, too Lance _.._. _What is it about my social preferences that’s so hard for him to_ _understand?_

Keith’s reservation about socializing is what made his idea so much more superior. It’s what made building a model rocket such a more approachable option; Keith and Lance could work together in a small, private room, building the rocket and taking photos in relative silence. Yeah, he didn’t really completely flesh out the idea as much as Lance did for his, but how was he supposed to know how prepared he had to be? It was just another example of Lance being so _extra._ Why did he feel the need to be so prepared for everything? _What is it about working with me that makes him feel the need to work so hard? Am I just that much of a pain to work with...?_

Keith’s frustration builds as he punches the wall above his headboard. He tried today, he really did. Just pushing himself to work with Lance, hell, even pushing himself to send that text message to Lance yesterday took so much effort. Being with people just isn’t his thing; anything most ‘normal’ people would find trivial is like climbing a fucking mountain for him. Although it probably didn’t seem like it to Lance, Keith really tried to work with him today. He just got so frustrated at Lance’s little concern or care for the walls of his comfort zone. _Is a respect of boundaries too much to ask of him…?_

Keith’s buzzing thoughts are interrupted by the soft rapping of knuckles on his bedroom door. Keith turns to lie on his side toward the door, which opens slightly. Shiro’s head pops in through the gap, a concerned look resting upon his face. _Here comes the lecture…_

“Hey Keith, can we talk?” he asks calmly, stepping further into Keith’s room. Keith softly sighs, before sitting up in his bed and glaring at the floor.

“Do I really have a choice?” Keith says with a scoff, crossing his arms across his chest. Shiro slowly enters his room, and takes a seat at the end of his bed.

“Keith I-,” he pauses and releases a soft sigh, “I talked to Lance after you stormed out back there. We chatted as we cleaned up your mess.” Keith closes his eyes, trying to avoid Shiro’s older-brother glare. “Believe me when I say that he means well. He’s a good kid. I think that the both of you could get along fine.”

“Shiro,” Keith interrupts, slightly frustrated, “he called me lazy. He was being a big jerk.” Keith’s voice grew quiet by the end of the sentence, now looking into his adoptive older brother’s knowing glare.

“He called you lazy and became a big jerk _after_ you snapped at him didn’t he?” Shiro asks, cocking his head slightly to the side, clearly knowing the answer to his own question. Keith quickly averts his gaze, shifting his glare down to the floor of his room.

“He tried to get me to dance with him,” Keith responds, voice wavering slightly, “in public too… He was planning all these things that were making me uncomfortable, and I felt like I didn’t have a say in any of it, and I panicked, okay?” he explains, shooting his gaze up to Shiro, whose face was now plastered with a look of sympathy.

“Keith,” he says softly, “I get that you’re still uncomfortable with being around and getting close to others.” Shiro closes his eyes and sighs before speaking again. “Yeah, Lance may have gone a bit overboard today, but I know that he’s the exact person that you need to help you break out of your anti-social shell.”

“Shiro, that just can’t happen,” Keith spits, breaking eye contact with Shiro once again, “Lance and I will never get along. All we do is snap at each other…” he pauses for a second. “We’re entirely different people, complete opposites.”

“Keith, basic physics says that opposites attract,” Shiro says with a soft smile. “You of all people should know that.” Keith digests Shiro’s words in silence for a few moments, before releasing a heavy sigh and leaning back on his headboard.

“Physical properties don’t change the fact that we can’t spend more than 5 minutes together without arguing,” he says, taking a deep breath in hopeless defeat.

“It sounds like what you need is a mediator,” Shiro suggests, standing up from Keith’s bed, “you know, someone to step in and prevent you two from snapping at each other?”

“Where am I supposed to find someone like that, Shiro? Last time I checked, I don’t have any friends.” Keith whispers harshly, relaxing his body against his headboard.

“What about that girl you were studying with yesterday? Her name’s Pidge right?” Shiro asks, causing Keith to snap his eyes open and shoot a glare over at Shiro.

“Pidge is _not_ my friend.” he spits, leaning his body off of the headboard and toward Shiro. “We’re acquaintances. That’s it.”

“Okay,” Shiro holds his hands up in an attempt to calm Keith down. “Acquaintance _or_ friend, I still think she could help you out.”

“She wouldn’t help me.”

“What makes you so sure about that?” Shiro’s words make Keith look up into his honest and questioning eyes. Keith didn’t know what to say, he didn’t have an answer to that question. He didn’t have a reason for being sure, he just figured that Pidge wouldn’t ever help him with something that wasn’t a physics problem. What benefit would she get out of helping Keith out? _Why would she care about my problems?_

“Just think about asking her Keith,” Shiro said earnestly, taking Keith’s silence as an answer. “I think having someone there you know could solve all of your problems.” Before Keith could retort, Shiro was already outside of his room, softly closing the door behind him until it clicked shut.

Keith heaves a heavy sigh, Shiro’s words flooding his mind. Maybe he’s right. Maybe having someone else on his side would help him communicate what he needs and wants. Someone who knows what Keith is going through. Someone like Pidge.

He languidly dials her number into his phone, and holds it up to his ear in anxiety. _Pidge won't help you. Why would she help you? You just help her figure out Physics problems an-_

“Keith?” Pidge’s voice faintly comes through the speaker of Keith’s phone.

“Hey.” 

* * *

 

Lance pushes through the door of his dorm room thirty minutes later shaking from the cold, his coffee-soaked clothes freezing on the ten minute walk back. _Fucking Keith, fucking January, fucking coffee._

“Hey Lance!” Hunk says, turning his swivel chair away from his laptop to face him. “How did it g-” he pauses his words, glancing up and down at Lance’s brown-stained shirt and pants. “Woah woah woah, what happened to you?” Hunk stands up in concern and begins to approach his roommate.

“Keith got mad at me and threw my cup of coffee at me,” Lance explains through chattering teeth, irritation clear in his voice. Hunk stops in his place, and holds a hand up to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter. “Yeah Hunk, go ahead and get it all out now,” Lance says sarcastically, holding his arms out to his side and starting to spin in place, “laugh at how pathetic I am. It’s just what I need right now.”

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Hunk says through small giggles, “I just don’t understand what you could’ve possibly done that would’ve made this Keith guy do…” he signals up and down Lance’s body, “ _that._ ”

“Yeah well, you’ve obviously never met Keith,” Lance says, heading over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of pajamas, “I so much as say I _like_ coffee and he snaps at me.” He walks into the bathroom, and closes the door slightly, leaving a small gap so he and Hunk can continue their conversation.

“Come on dude,” Hunk says with a scoff, “I’m sure he can’t be _that_ bad. We both know you can get a little fanatical sometimes.”

“While that _is_ true big guy,” Lance concedes, slipping out of his frozen coffee clothes and into his warm, cozy pajamas, “Keith is just another level of bad,” he sighs, picking his dirty clothes up and walking back out into the room, “working with him is just gonna be hopeless.”

“I still think you’re just being a little bit dramatic about this whole thing, Lance,” Hunk asserts, setting a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance slumps his posture and pouts.

“Huuunk,” he whines, “I’m serious! You’d totally understand where I’m coming from if you were there.” Lance pauses for a moment. “Wait... That’s the perfect idea!” he shouts, snapping his fingers and beaming a gigantic smile

“What?” Hunk asks, his face sporting a puzzled look.

“You’d understand if you were there, meaning you should come with me to my next meeting with Keith!” Lance clasps both his hands onto Hunk’s shoulders, who shudders in response to the sudden impact. “You could be like my bodyguard!”

“No way, Jose,” Hunk says, shaking his head, “I am not fighting your battles for you Lance. I don’t think I’d be much help anyways.”

“Hunk please!” Lance pleads, shaking Hunk’s shoulders back and forth. “If I’m going to take on Keith I at least need emotional support! I thought we were best bros!”

“We are!” Hunk protests with a pout.

“Dude, the first part of the best bro code is to support your best bro _always_ .” Lance removes his hands from Hunk’s shoulders, and places his palms together. “I need your support now Hunk, _please_.” Hunk stares down at his roommate’s pleading eyes and praying hands. He closes his eyes and thinks for a few moments before conceding to Lance’s demands.

“Fine,” he sighs, “just tell me when and where to meet, and I’ll be there to support you.”

“Oh Hunk!” Lance shouts, pulling his roommate into a tight hug, “You’re the bestest bro a guy could ever ask for!” Hunk squirms underneath Lance’s grip.

“Okay okay, yeah, your bestest bro, can you let me go please?” Hunk says with strain, “I’ve got a lab report due in an hour my dude.”

“Oh!” Lance says releasing his hold on Hunk, “Sorry man! You get that paper done.” Lance pulls out his phone from the pocket of his pajamas. “I’m gonna text Loser McMullet...”

Lance quickly shoots four texts to Keith in succession, breaking up his sentences into multiple messages like he always does. If nothing else, it’ll annoy Keith enough to respond, and get back at him slightly for covering him head to toe in coffee. Again, win win.

**(7:58) hey dude**

**(7:58) ik things didnt go well tonite but**

**(7:58) we r running out of time. :/**

**(7:59) would u be free to meet @ starbucks tmrw at 10am?**

Lance takes a seat on his bed, and turns off his phone screen. He holds the phone tight in his hand, eagerly awaiting the vibration signaling a reply from his uncooperative partner. After a few moments, Lance begins to bounce his leg up and down in anxious anticipation, until he finally caves and sends Keith yet another text:

**(8:03) hellooooo? earth to keith?**

This message, apparently got through to Keith:

_(8:03) 10AM tomorrow sounds good._

Lance fist-pumps in excitement that he got Keith to agree to another meeting, one where he has backup…

“Hey Hunk, we’re on for tomorrow at 10AM.” Lance says suavely with a smirk, snapping his fingers into his classic finger guns and pointing them in his roommate’s direction. Hunk gives Lance a thumbs up, keeping his back turned to his roommate and furiously typing away on his laptop. “Al-right! It’s on like Donkey Kong!” Lance cheers, throwing up a fist in celebration, “Keith won’t know what hit him!” Hunk pauses typing.

“Nope, not doing that Lance.” Hunk says, turning to face Lance, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“Not doing what?” Lance asked, raising a questioning eyebrow and cocking his head to the side.

“Not keeping my presence at this meeting a secret until tomorrow,” Hunk says holding a finger up in the air for emphasis, “I’ve heard a lot about how this Keith is anti-social, and unexpected people will only make getting through to him harder.”

“Ugh, fine!” Lance groans, picking up his phone once again to send a text message. Right as he hits the send button on his message however, another text message from Keith comes in:

**(8:05): hey im bringing a friend tmrw if thats ok**

_(8:05): Someone will be coming with me to the meeting tomorrow. I hope that’s okay._

**(8:05): oh lol, guess it is**

_(8:05): Uh, yeah I guess so…_

**(8:06): well c u tmrw**

_(8:06): See you._

“Hunk we’ve got another crisis!” Lance panics, rushing over to his friend and swiveling his chair around to face him.

“Lance! I only have one more paragraph to go!” Hunk complains, throwing his hands into the air. “This better be important.”

“Keith’s bringing a friend too! What if they’re planning on beating me up or something?!” Lance grabs onto the strands of his brown locks and pulls them in fear. Okay, that fear may be _slightly_ dramatized, but these revelations definitely have the potential to be problematic. If Keith is thinking the same thing Lance is, bringing a friend to back up his position, both he and Hunk may end up covered in coffee this time. Lance shudders at the thought of walking back to his dorm a _second time_ with wet clothes in cold weather. What if he gets pneumonia? What if he gets hypothermia? _What if he dies?!_

“Lance!” Hunk shouts, clasping both of Lance’s shoulders and giving them a shake. “You’re rambling again.” Oh, Lance didn’t realize he was saying all of that _out loud._ “It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. I’m your bestest bro, remember? I’ll be there to fight for you, and make sure you don’t die, okay?” Lance nods feebly, before Hunk releases his grasp on his shoulders, and sits back down in his swivel chair.

“Do keep in mind though Lance,” Hunk says, resuming his typing, “I may be your best bro, but I’m also going to help you get this project with Keith rolling. If you’re being overdramatic about something tomorrow, I will call you out on it.” Lance sighs before lying down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’d expect nothing less from you Hunk,” Lance’s face sports a small smile,  “I appreciate your honesty.”

“It’s what I do best,” Hunk says, lightly shrugging his shoulders as he continues to type away. What would Lance do without a best friend like Hunk? _Get another cup of coffee thrown on him, that’s what._ As long as Keith’s friend doesn’t mess everything up, Lance hopes that tomorrow will finally be the day that their project finally comes together. Twelve weeks may seem like a lot at first glance, the more of it they spend bickering and apart, the more time they waste away. Keith may not understand, but Lance doesn’t want to waste anymore time, energy, _or coffee_ without making any progress.

Lance sighs with exhaustion, before looking at the time on his phone. 13 hours, 50 minutes.

_This is gonna be a long night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments always appreciated! <3


	5. Bokeh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter due to midterm studying and stress, deepest apologies! T_T Next week will be longer than usual to compensate!
> 
> Thanks once again to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for being an awesome beta!

**Week 1 - Thursday**

 

Lance sits across the table from Hunk at Starbucks, bouncing his leg up and down impatiently. He swiftly takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time: 9:55AM. He sighs and starts to tap his fingers on the table top surface. Is he just going to ditch? Why hasn’t he showed up yet? Did his friend cancel? Did _he_ cancel? What if Keith changed his number and Lance was texting a stranger last night? _What if-_

“Lance,” Hunk says firmly, pulling Lance’s tapping fingers into his hand and giving them a squeeze. Lance once again didn’t realize he was rambling out loud. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” Hunk’s firm grasp on Lance’s hand grounds him slightly, and he takes a deep breath.

“You’re right Hunk,” Lance says with another deep sigh, attempting to control the ravaging nerves inside of his head. They could just be running late, right? Or maybe they just want to show up right on time? Maybe they missed a bus or something…

Lance yawns deeply, his nerves causing his open jaw to quiver. Lance is anxious, yeah, but he is also _exhausted_. He again stayed up way too late the previous night in fear of how everything could go wrong this morning. He knew the stakes: he knew that if Hunk couldn’t save him from Keith’s wrath, nothing could. He knew that he could kiss his beloved college education goodbye, all because of one mullet-headed jerk with a temper problem.

Lance interrupts his thoughts with another deep yawn. How ironic is it that Lance sits in a coffee shop, the one place on campus where he could receive free, liquid energy thanks to his employee benefits, and yet is unable to drink a single drop? Well, he technically could, nothing is stopping him, but the memory of the previous night rings alarm bells in his head whenever he even thinks about approaching the counter. He doesn’t want to so much as even _tempt_ Keith with a cup of hot coffee on the table if their conversation goes south. He’s _not_ ruining another set of clothes and freezing to death walking back to his dorm again; he can’t risk it. So here Lance sits, exhaustively low on energy, but still feeling like a live wire from the bundle of nerves growing inside of him. He knows it’s only a matter of time until he explodes, and that time is slowly ticking away as his phone approaches ten o’ clo-

“Hey Lance?” Hunk asks, tapping Lance’s shoulder and signaling behind him. “That’s him, right?”

Lance turns his head around and looks over his shoulder, catching sight of the raven-haired boy. His head ( _and mullet_ ) are hidden by a black hoodie with ‘Garrison University’ printed upon its front in orange with silver outlines. Keith has his hands tucked into the pockets of his ripped, black skinny jeans ( _what a perfect choice for the 20 degree weather_ ) and his face sports an aggressive scowl. Resting underneath Keith’s eyebrows are his chilling violet irises, pointing forward in a glare that were a textbook definition of ‘if looks could kill’.

“Yep,” Lance says with a shudder, “That’s Keith.”

Keith steps a bit to a side when he enters the seating area of the coffee cafe, revealing a girl following him in-tow. She is noticeably shorter in height than Keith, her shoulder-length brown locks only reaching Keith’s upper torso at their maximum height. Her light brown eyes are shadowed behind large, ring-frame glasses. Something about Keith’s companion looks strangely familiar to Lance. He feels like he’s seen her before, but from where?

“Pidge?” Hunk speaks up, leaning his head to the side to see past Lance. The girl turns her head towards Hunk’s voice, and her face brightens up.

“Hunk!” the girl, who Lance now assumes is Pidge, shouts. She grabs Keith’s wrist, and tugs him along towards their table, to his obvious, visible displeasure.

“Hey Pidge!” Hunk stands up from the table to meet Pidge and her tug-along crabby companion. Pidge releases her grip on Keith, and throws her hand up into the air.

“Team Punk!” The two shout, high fiving and throwing their other fists into the air in celebration.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Lance asks, dumbfounded that a friend of someone like _Keith_ could be friends with his best bro.

"Uh, yeah?” Hunk sarcastically says with a scoff, “Pidge is like the smartest person I know!” he proclaims, turning his head to Lance. “Lance, you met our team at the robotics competition last semester. She was the programmer!”

“Oh, that’s right…” Lance recalls, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah! That robot would’ve never made it to the finals had it not been for Pidge,” Hunk compliments, shooting a classic-Hunk big, friendly smile at her. Pidge playfully shoves Hunk’s arm in response.

“No way! You’re the master engineer Hunk! That robot wouldn’t have even been out there if it wasn’t for you!” Pidge exclaims, to which Hunk turns away slightly, feeling flattered by the compliment.

“Aw thanks Pidge!” Hunk says, beaming a friendly smile at his _other_ friend.

“Look, I’m glad you two can reminisce in some happy memories,” Keith dismisses, crossing his arms across his chest and pushing his hood off his head, “but there’s more important things to discuss.”

“Right! Like our project that’s _not_ going to be taking pictures of a model rocket!” Lance says, crossing his arms like Keith and shooting a glare in his direction. Both Hunk and Pidge sit down in the seats adjacent to Lance. Keith quickly crashes down into the seat across from Lance before snapping back.

“No, like our project that’s _not_ going to be three months of pictures of dance lessons.” Lance scoffs at Keith’s retort and throws his arms out to the side.

“I still don’t get what your problem with it is! It’d be a hell of a lot more fun than building a model rocket!” Keith slams a hand down on the table, drawing the attention of some of those nearby.

“I told you yesterday you dumbass, I don’t dance!” Keith shouts, shooting a fierce glare at Lance. Lance leans in closer across the table to Keith, to add emphasis to his perspective.

“Neither do I! You know Keith, it _really_ wouldn’t be uncomfortable or weird if we’re _both_ embarrassing ourselves.” Lance explains, crossing his arms in defense once again as Keith fires back.

“Don’t you _dare_ act like you know what’s comfortable for me,” Keith spits, shooting an accusing finger in Lance’s direction. Pidge and Hunk shoot each other uncomfortable glares, as Keith continues shouting, “you don’t know me at all!”

“Yeah well, you don’t know me either Keith!” Lance shouts, standing up,  “you think I wanna do some dumb nerd thing for three months? Think aga-” Pidge holds up her hand toward Lance, signalling for him to stop.

“Put a pin in it right there, McClain,” she demands. Lance looks at her in disbelief for a few moments, before sitting down, crossing his arms and pouting with a huff. Keith looks over at Lance smugly and looks as though he’s about to retort again before he’s met with the aggressive eyes of Hunk.

“You chill out for just a sec too Keith,” Hunk says, causing Keith to shoot him a steely glare. The two stare aggressively at each other for a few seconds, before Keith concedes, pulling his hood back over his head and directing his gaze down at the table. Pidge and Hunk look at each other, bizarrely being able to communicate without words, before both nodding.

“We’ll be right back,” Hunk explains standing up.

“The _adults_ are gonna have a little private conversation,” Pidge adds cheekily, leaning her head down into the peripheral vision of both Lance and Keith, “don’t kill each other while we’re gone, yeah?” Both Lance and Keith nod softly in response, pouts and scowls still planted firmly on their respective faces. Pidge beams a facetious smile at the two, before standing up straight and following Hunk out of earshot.

* * *

 

Pidge was of the deeply analytical sort. There were very few problems or issues she couldn’t solve. So, when Keith asked her the previous night if she could bring some sort of resolve between him and his enthusiastic photography partner, she happily obliged. No matter what Keith told her, Pidge had assumed that Keith was just blowing his conflict with Lance out of proportion. After all, how complicated of a situation could this be? It’s just petty arguing between two people, Lance and Keith. Pidge soon learned after sitting down at that table today, however, that this situation would be far from a walk in the park.

“Pidge,” Hunk said, tapping Pidge on the shoulder, “I understand you’re making your deep thinking face right now, but I think Lance and Keith are starting to get a little restless over there.” Hunk pointed behind Pidge toward the table, where upon turning around, she saw Lance and Keith shooting each other aggressive glares, huffing and puffing.

“How did I end up in this situation?” Pidge says with a sigh. Did she agree to help as a part challenge? Or did she accept it to support her friend? Would she ever find the answer?

“You’re asking me?” Hunk asks with a playful scoff, “Lance asked me to help him, but,” he pauses, turning to look back at the table,  “I didn’t think the situation was _this_ bad” Hunk waves his hand in the direction of an increasingly uncomfortable Lance and Keith to emphasize his point. “I mean, they couldn’t even be around each other for two minutes without arguing, it’s insane!”

“Yeah, it’ll be a miracle if those two could ever get along,” Pidge jests, chuckling slightly, until a thought crosses her mind; the two will never work together so long as they don’t get along. If Lance and Keith can’t stand to be around each other, it would be impossible for them to put a project together in three months. This cause and effect relationship doomed their chances of making it through this project without bonding first. The only issue is that by the time the two _finally_ work out their differences and get along with each other (and Pidge knows that it _is_ possible, the laws of physics and attraction define it as so), they will have no time to complete the project. At least… on their own anyway.

“Pidge, you’re making your thinking face again,” Hunk points out, a growing panic evident in his voice. “Please tell me you have an idea. I think Keith is getting up to go buy a coffee and we all know how that ended last time.”

“Hunk, tell me,” Pidge asks, voice full of devious intent, “what is your Friday through Sunday availability for the next few weeks?”

“Besides a one-off homework assignment, I’ve got nothing going on, why?” Pidge adjusts her glasses in response to Hunk’s question, a mischievous glint appearing in her amber eyes.

“I think I have a plan…”

* * *

 

Pidge and Hunk arrive back at the table just as Keith does, a venti iced americano ( _whatever the fuck that is)_ in hand. While his entire purpose for purchasing the coffee drink was to throw it at Lance again, because the guy was just pissing him off huffing and puffing and everything, he at least had the decency to get an iced drink. Lance may be stubborn, annoying, and refusing to see things from Keith’s perspective, but the guy didn’t deserve to get burned by hot coffee being thrown at him. He wasn’t _that_ stubborn and annoying.

“Wait Keith, you said you didn’t drink coffee!” Lance protests, leaning back into his chair slightly away from Keith.

“I know,” Keith says mischievously, a smirk growing onto his face as he takes a seat across from him. He notices Lance shoot a glare up at Hunk, who in turn shoots a glare to Pidge, who leans down and slides the cup across the table, away from Keith.

“You’re not soaking Lance in coffee today, Keith,” she chastises and wags her index finger, causing Keith’s face to turn into a scowl. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks down at the table in angered defeat.

“Alright you two, so Pidge and I talked about your little situation here,” Hunk begins, signaling back and forth with an open hand between pouting Lance and angered Keith, “and the genius in our presence has a solution.”

Keith rolls his eyes in response to the words of Lance’s friend. This isn’t a situation between the two of them; the whole division with Lance is solely being caused by his unwillingness to cooperate and understand Keith’s problems. He’s being ignorant and inconsiderate of Keith’s personal boundaries. Yeah, Keith may not be the best at _communicating_ this, but what’s the point? Lance is loud and refuses to listen to him. All he does is rile him up, _and get coated with coffee._ What solution could _possibly_ remedy this? Pidge answers his question with a clearing of the throat, and an adjustment of her ring-frame glasses.

“You two are going to bond and get to know each other.”

“What?!” Keith snaps, throwing his arms out to the side and sending his friend a confused, yet aggressive glare.

“No way José!” Lance shouts, shaking his head violently. “Mullet over here and I could never bond over anything!”

“It’s _not_ a mullet!” Keith bristles, shooting his aggressive eyes over at Lance.

“Is too!” Lance retorts. _This son of a-_

“Alright, that’s enough you two, knock it off!” Hunk yells, leaning with both hands on the table to put his head in-between the two of them.

“Huuunk, Piiiidge,” Lance whines, “You have to see that this solution of yours is never going to work out!”

“Neither is your photography project if you don’t shut up and listen to us,” Pidge retorts, a classic staredown of hers being sent in Lance’s direction. Lance gives up at the sight of Pidge’s glare, and slumps back down into his seat. God, is Keith ever glad he’s not on the receiving end of Pidge’s razor-sharp eyes this time.

“Look,” Hunk says with a sigh, “After only spending a couple of minutes with the two of you together, it’s clear to the both of us that you’re going to get nowhere while you still argue like this,” he explains, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head back and forth slightly.

“...which is why we hypothesize that the quick and dirty solution to solving your problem is learning how to get along. We believe that bonding with one another for at least a few weeks will allow your project to come together much faster and easier.” Pidge adds, adjusting her glasses with confidence, “Now don’t think we expect you two to try this on your own, because based upon your track record, you guys are going to need some help.” Pidge smirks, signalling between herself and Hunk before cheekily adding, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Keith huffs a deep breath as Pidge’s words get to his psyche like they always do. Her solution, although once again, unfavorable, makes sense. If he and Lance can’t spend more than five minutes in the same room without arguing, how would they ever finish this project that demands teamwork, and in-person teamwork at that? The last thing Keith wants to do is have to retake photography because their project never comes together. Yeah, Keith thinks that he and Lance have next to no chance of bonding over anything, let alone becoming close enough where he’d consider them acquaintances; for the project however, Keith recognizes that he’s at least going to have to put in some effort, step outside of his walls to get shit done. It’s going to be hell, it’s going to be painful, but at the very least, he and Lance could get this project done as quickly as possible, and never have to interact again. This might work. _I could do this…_

“Nope nuh-uh not happening!” Lance protests with a pout, tightening his crosses arms around his chest. _Of course he’s going to be difficult._

“Lance-”

“Noooope!” Lance interrupts Pidge, rolling his eyes. “All we’re going to do is waste the little time we have on pointless things that are going to get us nowhere.” Lance shoots a glare over at Keith. “And I guarantee Keith over here is going to cover me in coffee _many_ more times.”

“Lance,” Keith speaks up softly, causing Lance to look over at him in bewilderment. “You and I both know that we’re not making any progress anyways with all of the arguing we do.” Keith grabs the cup of iced coffee, causing the three others to tense up in alarm. “I get that this solution is something that neither of us want, but if it means getting our project done easier in more time, I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.” Keith slowly slides the cup of iced coffee over to him as a concession gift. Lance remains silent for a few moments, likely confused about his own words coming out of Keith’s mouth, and stares at the cup of coffee in disbelief.

“Lance, you need to say something dude,” Hunk says, lightly shoving his shoulder. Lance shakes himself out of his trance.

“You’ve got a point mullet,” he says with a harsh sigh, accepting the cup of coffee. “I guess I’m game...” he grumbles, holding out his hand to shake. Keith hesitantly takes Lance’s hand into his own, and they both give a firm shake.

“Sweet!” Pidge exclaims with a smile, “See, you guys are making progress already!”

“Don’t push it Holt,” Keith says snidely, resting his hand down on the table.

“Too bad, I already am,” Pidge responds with an aggressive wink. “Every weekend from now until the project’s due date, we’re going to get together for bonding time,” she explains with a firm, confident nod, “Hunk and I will plan the first few activities, and we’re going to get the ball rolling tomorrow night. Lance, you’ll come with Hunk. Keith, you’ll come with me, don’t be late!”

“But what are we doi-”

“Alright have a good night you two, see you tomorrow!” Pidge shouts, cutting off Lance and pulling Keith out of his seat by the wrist. Before he can even have a chance to protest their quick departure, they’re already outside of the coffee shop. Keith sighs. He hopes he’ll survive these next few weeks stuck bonding with Lance, and goddamnit, he hopes his fucking wrist does too.

* * *

 

Later that night, long after Lance had panicked about their outing tomorrow and gone to bed, Hunk receives two text messages from Pidge:

(11:47) Operation: Bokeh - Stage One is complete. 

(11:47) Proceed to stage two. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll see where they're heading on their first outing next week! Comments and Kudos always appreciated, thanks for reading! <3


	6. Frame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, my apologies for posting late this week, this chapter has been giving me trouble for the longest time, but I think I've finally gotten it to a place where I want it to be!
> 
> College has also been hitting me hard these last few weeks, and as a result, I've fallen a bit behind in my writing for this fic. I'll try my best to get out the next update as close to next weekend as I can, but I just wanted to let you all know in case it is longer!
> 
> Thanks once again to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for the beta!

**Week 1 - Friday**

 

“Uggghhhh,” Lance groans, having read the explanation for L’Hospital’s rule in his calculus textbook for the fourth time. “Why is math so complicated Hunk?” He says with a whine, planting his face into the textbook.

“It’s calculus Lance,” Hunk says with a chuckle, “what did you expect?”

“Not this bullshit!” Lance groans, “I mean seriously!” Lance points down at the line in his textbook that he’s been stuck on for the last fifteen minutes: “for functions f and g which are differentiable on an open interval I except possibly at a point c contained in I…” he trails off, before spinning his swivel chair around to face Hunk, “what does it _even_ mean?”

“You just gotta differentiate the numerator and denominator until you find a definite limit,” Hunk casually explains, not breaking eye contact from his own math homework. Lance’s eyes light up in shock, his jaw dropping open slowly.

“It’s that simple?” Lance asks dumbfoundedly. _There’s no way it can be that simple._

“I mean, that’s how I did it when I passed calculus last semester,” Hunk says, shrugging his shoulders in innocence. He finishes solving his homework problem, and places his pencil down on his desk. “Lemme see the problem.” Hunk says, getting up from his desk and heading over to Lance’s side of the room.

“Right here,” Lance groans, languidly pointing in his textbook to the problem he just can’t fucking understand. While he appreciates having Hunk as a best friend to help him solve all these dumb math problems, he can’t help but feel like a burden everytime he does. It’s always dumb, good-for-nothing art student Lance asking for help on the simple fucking questions. Why couldn’t this shit just click in Lance’s brain like it does for everyone else? Why does it have to be so hard? _Why do I have to be so stupid?_

“Yeah, you just have to keep deriving the numerator and denominator until you get a limit of 1,” Hunk explains, pointing to the different parts of the problem on the pages of Lance’s textbook. Lance pouts softly before allowing his head to fall back onto his expensive, five-hundred page headrest.

“Thanks Hunk, but I don’t think this’ll ever click for me,” Lance sighs dejectedly, before turning his head to the side, his cheek resting upon the stupid jumble of letters, numbers, and symbols.

“Aw come on man, I know you can do it. You’re Lance! You never throw in the towel, never stop trying, never give up!” Hunk says, giving Lance’s shoulder a slight nudge in encouragement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never felt like this about a class before Hunk,” Lance says with a groan, “I don’t like being the _dumbest_ person in the room three times a week.”

“Lance, you’re not dumb,” Hunk says firmly. “Math just isn’t your strong suit, and that’s okay.”

“Not if I don’t pass the class,” Lance grumbles, covering his face with his hand and closing his eyes in growing anxiety. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if he failed.

“Why do you even have to take calculus anyways?” Hunk asks with confusion. “I thought art majors didn’t need to take math.”

“I did too,” Lance says with a sigh, removing the palm covering his eyes, and glancing over at his laptop’s screen. The email from his academic advisor that initiated his impromptu homework session still sits open on it’s glowing surface, reminding him of their meeting Monday afternoon. Lance doesn’t know what the issue is with his academics, but he’s super nervous about finding out. He hopes that everything is okay, and that maybe, hopefully, he can switch out of math to some other class that he feels less dumb in.

“Well, I guess, try your hardest man,” Hunk suggests with a shrug, “maybe find a study buddy too. That’s how I got through it.” Lance perks up at Hunk’s words and looks at him with eager and hopeful eyes. Hunk knows _everything_ about calculus, and he’s already Lance’s buddy. He could help him pass calculus and then Lance doesn’t have to worry anymore. It’s a win-win!

“Lance, I know what the look you’re giving me means, and I’m unfortunately gonna have to say no,” Hunk says apologetically, causing Lance to slump in his chair and look down at the floor dejectedly. “I’m sorry man, I just don’t think I’d be the best help. I sucked at calculus last semester.”

“It’s okay Hunk,” Lance says with a groan, “I’ll just accept my fate now…”

Lance closes his textbook and gets up from his desk, collapsing onto his bed. He lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, sighing softly at the sight of his pasted, glow-in-the-dark stars that shine a translucent yellow in the fluorescent light.

The one thing Lance misses the most about living in a small town was the stars in the night sky. Ever since he made the stupid decision to come to this university in the middle of the city, he hasn’t felt the same. The stars were a constant, something dependable, always coming out of hiding as soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Even when everything else in his life seemed to be out of control and unpredictable, he still could count on visits from the likes of Ursa Major, Virgo, and Scorpius every time he gazed upward. Coming to Garrison University changed all of that, his ethereal friends going into hiding, obscured by sun at day, bright lights at night.

Sure, in coming to college, Lance has done a fine job in replacing his friends in the sky with friends on the ground; His best bro Hunk embodied Ursa Major in size and spirit, being huge and mighty but having the soft personality of a teddy bear. His best friend Ally was Virgo come to life, her shimmery eyes shining through the dark times like Spica. And Keith -- Keith isn't even a friend, but Lance can't help but think of him with the same disdain he did with Scorpius; always chasing after Orion, always looking to ruin the Hunter's life with his poisonous sting…

Is it safe to say that Keith has already stung him? Already filled his present being and uncertain future with his ice-cold poison? Lance knows that Keith being forced into his social circle has made the last week one of the worst of his life; the fact that there’s still eleven weeks of this to go sends chills up his spine. They have eleven weeks to figure this shit out; eleven weeks to tolerate each other enough to be able to decide on a project; eleven weeks to work together and take pictures; eleven weeks to ensure Lance can still pursue the future he wants so dearly. Lance sighs deeply at the seriousness of it all.

As little as Lance knows Pidge, he at least is able to recognize her intelligence. Hell, she basically _carried_ the university’s robotics team to the championship last year; she knows her stuff. Despite that though, he still feels uneasy at the prospects of her and Hunk’s little plan. How can she know that Keith will be willing to cooperate? How can she know that wasting project time on bonding is worth it? How can she picture the two of them working together, becoming closer, becoming... _friends_?

The words sound so foreign dancing inside of Lance’s head. Lance and Keith? Neck and neck? Side by side? Hand in hand? Friends? It seems like such an impossible outcome, it isn’t even worth discussing. Despite the absurdity of it all, Lance has to be at least a little bit optimistic about the plan. He knows that their project will come together if the two of them can get along, even if it’s the bare minimum of the time. He just hopes that this plan works, that the two of them can eventually sit in the same room and not rip each other’s throats out. They have eleven weeks sure, but it’s _eleven weeks._ They have no time to lose. _I can’t keep running from Keith’s sting..._

“Lance!” Hunk shouts, giving Lance a firm shake on the shoulder. “It’s almost time to meet up with Pidge and Keith. Stop daydreaming and get ready so we can go!”

“I still don’t know where we’re going Hunk!” Lance whines, sitting up on his bed and swinging his feet off to the side. “What do I even wear?”

“Something loose,” Hunk says firmly, typing something hastily into his phone, “be prepared for some minor exercise.”

“Sounds like I’m going to be running from the scorpion again…” Lance grumbles, pulling a pair of light-grey sweatpants and a blue & white ringer t-shirt out of his dresser and heading into the bathroom.

* * *

 

“Pidge, why wont you just tell me what the hell we’re doing tonight?” Keith spits into the phone, sitting on a high stool at the island counter in his kitchen. He takes another bite of the hot pocket on the countertop in front of him, and chews it quickly.

“It’s a surprise,” Pidge says with a devilish tone. Keith is able to picture the smirk sported upon his friend’s face, and it only makes him more frustrated. He hates when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Look Pidge,” Keith says with a scoff, “it’s almost seven, and you still haven’t told me what we’re doing or where I need to be.” He takes another bite of his hot pocket and continues to speak with the food in his mouth. “Either you tell me, or I won’t show up.” A dramatic gasp comes through the speaker of the phone

“You wouldn’t _dare_ ,” Pidge teases, causing Keith to twitch the side of his mouth up into a slight smirk.

“You and I both know that I totally would,” he responds, feeling relieved when a groan erupts from the other side of the line.

“Ugh fine,” Pidge concedes. “Meet me at the main floor of the student union at seven. Wear something loose.”

“Why do I need loose clothing?” Keith presses, hoping to finally crack through Pidge’s surprise game. His effort, however, is futile.

“You’ll find out,” Pidge says with a giggle, causing Keith to toss his phone to the table’s surface in frustration.

“Fine,” he spits, before hanging up the phone, and aggressively shoving the last bite of his hot pocket into his mouth. He hates being kept in the dark about this whole ‘Lance and Keith bonding exercise’ thing. It took a lot out of him to agree to Pidge’s scheme, and the least Keith thinks he deserves is some idea of what’s about to go down tonight. He at least deserves to not have to worry about it, right?

“Wow, Keith not cooped up in his room on a Saturday evening?” Shiro teases as he enters the kitchen, and leans against the counter. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s nothing, Shiro,” Keith dismisses, placing his plate in the sink and returning to his seat at the island.

“Sure doesn’t sound like nothing,” Shiro says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at Keith with a knowing glare. Keith sighs in response.

“Pidge is having Lance and I get together for some ‘bonding time’ tonight,” he explains with air-quotes, “she thinks forcing us together in social exercises will help us get our project done faster, and I guess it made sense enough for me to agree to it... “ Keith trails off, twiddling his thumbs on the countertop. Shiro places his hands on his hips and beams a proud smile.

“What was that I heard? Keith taking _my_ advice to save his future?” Shiro feigns surprise, causing Keith to stick a finger into his open mouth and pretend to gag. Shiro chuckles in response, before walking over to Keith and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“In all seriousness Keith, I’m glad you decided to ask for Pidge’s help,” he says earnestly, “I definitely think that trying to bond with Lance will make this whole process easier for the both of you.” Shiro lifts his hand off of Keith’s shoulder and walks over toward the doorway of the kitchen. He turns his head over his shoulder and looks back toward Keith with a smirk. “Besides, maybe this project will be the last time Keith Kogane flies solo.”

“In your dreams Shiro,” Keith says with a playful scoff as Shiro leaves the kitchen. He sits in stillness for a few moments before Shiro’s departing words begin to invade his thoughts.

Keith has always flown solo, lived under the radar, and avoided social interaction. It was just easier that way; the less time he spent with people, the less he put their trust in them, the less he got closer to them, the less loss he felt when they left him time and time again. He constantly wished that it was easier to meet and get along with people, and he wished that he could keep the ones he let through his walls before they ran away.

As annoying as Lance McClain could be, his social aptitude was the one thing Keith always envied. He just _knows_ how to get along with everybody; his persistence in working with Keith on this stupid photography project is proof enough. He’s able to waltz right into a fucking room and have everyone recognize him, know his name, say hello to him. _Care about him._ Sometimes he wishes that he had it as easy as Lance. Sometimes he wishes he was as good at keeping people in his life as him.

Not that he would ever tell Lance that though. Keith is still not at a point where he has enough trust in people to let more of them permanently into his life. Hell, it took him almost two whole years to finally trust Shiro enough to even _talk_ to him after he was adopted from foster care. Everyone in his foster care days stabbed him in his back, kicked him when he was down, and disappeared when he needed them the most. There was never anyone who stayed around permanently. Jumping from house to house, group to group, parents to parents, Keith never had any time to get to know anyone and eventually he just stopped trying. It wasn’t until he had spent plenty of time living with Shiro and his parents that he learned that all people aren’t like that. Some people can be trusted. Some people do stick around. _Some people do care._

Unfortunately, Keith knows he doesn’t have another _two years_ to learn the way to trust Lance. He knows he’s going to have to step outside of his comfort zone and learn how let him in at an expedited pace. As much as he hates the prospects of bringing his walls down even slightly for anyone else, he realizes that this plan of Pidge and Lance’s friend is basically the only way he can get a passing grade in photography. He may as well make the most out of a shitty situation, _right?_

Keith, acknowledging he’s running out of time, quickly runs up to his room and changes into a pair of black jeans and long-sleeve shirt. He slips on his college hoodie over his effortless attempt at ‘loose clothing’, and heads back down toward the door. Keith pauses for a moment at the front door of his house, closing his eyes and heaving a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters, before pushing through the door into the cold January night.

* * *

 

“Well look who didn’t bail after all…” Lance hears Pidge say teasingly, following her gaze over to the door of the student union. Standing on the large black floor mat by the door was Loser McMullet himself, the black hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head. His cheeks sport a soft red color from being outside in the cold (although Lance would believe it if you told him the blush was counteracting the icy-cold stare emanating from his irises, too). Keith’s outfit surprises Lance, actually being composed of what he would consider ‘loose clothing’ instead of his typical skinny jeans. Keith slows down his pace as he approaches the three others sitting in lounge chairs.

“Whatever,” Keith mutters, pushing off his hood and shoving his hands into his pockets, “I’m here now, what are we doing?”

“Yeah, that’s been my question for the last two days!” Lance complains from his seat, throwing his arms out to the side and glaring over at Pidge and Hunk. Pidge and Hunk shoot glances between Keith and Lance and each other, the devilish smirks on their faces growing larger with each cycle of their eyes.

“Do I even want to know?” Lance mumbles to himself, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling.

“Look,” Keith spits, causing the other three to look over at him in alarm. “This is the first Saturday night I’ve been out in almost a year. Can we just get this over with?”

“Yeah! Keith’s right,” Lance agrees, “we’ve waited long enough in this stupid game of yours!” Pidge and Hunk glance at each other quickly with widened eyes.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Lance asks, growing increasingly frustrated by Hunk and Pidge’s ‘telepathic’ communications at his expense.

“Nothing at all McClain. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Pidge says nonchalantly, rising from her chair alongside Hunk. She turns around and begins walking toward the elevators at the opposite wall of the lounge, Hunk following in tow. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Pidge, you said to meet _here_. Where the hell are we going now?” Keith complains, beginning to follow Pidge and Hunk, bubbling frustration present in his voice. Lance is just grateful Keith’s building ire isn’t directed at him for once. Lance rises from his seat and quickly shuffles to catch up with the group. They arrive at the elevator bank before Pidge turns around to respond.

“It’s a surprise,” Pidge says with a smirk, pushing the button to summon the elevator. “Which means,” Pidge is interrupted by the doors to the elevator opening, “the two of you are going to need to close your eyes now.”

“What?!” Keith shouts, throwing his arms out to the side. Pidge ignores Keith’s outburst, and shuffles into the open elevator, holding the door open for the rest of the group. Keith crosses his arms and shoots a glare at Pidge. “I’m _not_ closing my eyes. What if I run into a wall or something?”

“You won’t Keith,” Pidge speaks hastily, holding up the index finger on her free arm. “I will guide you and Hunk will guide Lance,” she waves her hand toward the elevator, “now get in before the alarm starts going off.” Keith stands for a few moments in protest, before his posture laxes slightly and he drifts through the door.

“Fine,” he huffs, the elevator door closing shortly after and sending the small cramped space into silence. Just before the silence begins to make Lance feel uncomfortable, Pidge presses the button for the Basement level.

“Okay. Both of you, close your eyes,” Pidge instructs. “We’ll be at our destination shortly.” Lance closes his eyes uneasily, the situation feeling shady to him. He didn’t even know the student union _had_ a basement level, and now he’s letting the friend of someone he doesn’t get along with lead him to a secret destination. Yeah sure, Hunk may be there but he could have totally been brainwashed by a _genius_ like Pidge. Now he’s being taken down to the deepest level of the student union, and the only people who know about his location are his captors. Maybe he can just kiss that college education of his goodbye. _I’m sorry Mamá, I tried my hardest, but I met my demise in a bonding exer-_

“Will you just shut up, Lance!” Lance hears Keith spit, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on either, so just chill out, okay?” The sharpness in Keith’s voice tapers off by the end of his sentence, and strangely, the tone shift calms Lance’s nerves and silences his typical melodrama. Keith is stuck here with him. _We’re in this mess together._

* * *

 

Keith’s first clue as to the mystery location came in the form of the sound emanating from the end of the third hallway Pidge’s small hands lead him down. It wasn’t just a singular sound though, but rather a harmony of shitty eight-year old pop songs and the rumble of heavy things rolling across the floor, a loud crash complementing them after a few short seconds. The sounds get louder and louder, and with each further step Keith became more and more confident as to where he was. Soon, the firm push on his back from Pidge’s hands disappears, and Keith stops in his tracks.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now,” she instructs, and as Keith does, an enormous wave of relief floods over his very being.

It’s the bowling alley. Pidge took them bowling. _This I can work with._

“Woah!” Lance exclaims, his jaw dropping.

“Welcome to our first bonding exercise, bowling at Garrison Gameroom!” Pidge beams, holding her arm out to the side, showing off the twenty bowling lanes set behind her.

“I didn’t even know this was here!” Lance says, voice full of wonder, eyes gawking at the sight of the room. Keith scoffs at Lance’s reaction, crossing his arms and looking over at Lance with a smirk.

“Really? I come here all the time,”  Keith says, adding sass to his voice to get under Lance’s skin, “bowling is one of my favorite past times. It lets me get out anger constructively.” Keith leans in slightly toward Lance. “Plus, I’m pretty good at it too.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance challenges with a scoff.  “Well Keith, I’ll have you know that I was one of the top twenty-five bowlers in my youth league back home!”

“And where did you place in that top twenty-five?” Keith asks with a smirk, clearly catching Lance off-guard by his reaction.

“Well I-” Lance stammers, “th-that’s not important okay! The point is,” he points at himself, and stares Keith dead in the eyes, “ _I’m_ the biggest pinmaster in this group, and I’m going to wipe the floor with you!”

“Pinmaster?” Keith snorts, “More like pinhead.”

“Oh, it’s so _on_ mullet!” Lance fumes, rushing over to the counter at such a pace that he startles the cashier. Keith can’t help but chuckle at Lance’s competitive tirade, and he only has a feeling that it’s going to get even more entertaining as the night progresses.

“Four bowlers, one game please,” Lance says to the cashier, digging for his wallet in the pocket of his sweatpants, “and shoes too pl-” His voice cuts out as he looks up at the cashier, a shorter girl with pale skin, olive green eyes, and wavy red hair. “ _Oh_ , hello there…” Lance says suavely, dropping his voice down two octaves and causing Keith to roll his eyes, “What’s your name?” Of course, Lance gets distracted by the pretty girl, what else did he expect?

“Florona,” she deadpans, “as you can see on my nametag here,” she says, lazily raising a hand to the badge pinned to her work uniform.

“Well, miss Florona,” Lance flirts, “me and my four friends here would like to, you know,” he wiggles his shoulders and leans closer, “throw the balls and rent the shoes.” Lance’s pathetic attempts at wooing cause Keith to snort, trying his best to hold back his laughter.

“Right. That’s why you’re at a bowling alley, yeah?” Florona responds with a knowing smirk.

“R-right yeah mhm!” Lance stutters, scratching the back of his neck, his face growing red with embarrassment. Florona lets out a soft chuckle at Lance’s pathetic display, turning toward the touch screen that operates the lanes.

“You said four people, one game?” she asks. Before Lance has a chance to respond, Pidge steps closer to the counter.

“Make that two people,” Pidge insists. Lance turns to her and throws out his arms in disappointment.

“What? You guys don’t want to bowl with an expert like me?” he protests, looking between Hunk and Pidge. Keith rolls his eyes at Lance’s self-applied title. _His ego is getting old real fast._

“Sorry man,” Hunk says, “I had an exam this morning on the north end of campus and my feet are _really_ sore.”

“As did I,” Pidge speaks through her teeth, “and besides,” she says, lighting up with a smile, “this bonding exercise is for you two! We’ll just get in the way.” Pidge links her hands behind her back and beams a toothy smile at Lance. Keith shoots Pidge an angry glare, who reciprocates by smiling back at him as well. This gremlin’s gonna make Keith deal with Lance’s ego all by himself? He should’ve figured as much.

“Ookay then,” Lance says, confusion present in his voice, turning back to Florona, “guess it’s just two bowlers then...” Keith notices Lance look back at him uneasily in fear, to which he smirks at. _This’ll be easy as cake._

Lance finishes paying for the bowling games, and both he and Keith pick out their bowling shoes and balls. Keith takes a particular interest in a red 14 lb. ball, and as he arrives at the bowling lane, Lance comes running over with a blue 9 lb. ball. Keith scoffs at his choice.

“You know, a heavier ball will help you knock down more pins,” he explains with a smirk.

“Look mullet, the _last_ person I need bowling advice from is _you_ ,” Lance taunts, before turning his face up into a smile, and rubbing the surface of his cerulean ball. “Besides, blue is _The Pinmaster’s_ lucky color.” Keith rolls his eyes again as Lance plants a kiss to the scuffed surface of the house ball.

“Whatever you say, pinhead.” Keith says, rolling his eyes and taking out his phone.

Lance heads over to the lane’s console and begins to enter the bowler information as Keith scrolls through his empty social media pages. One time Pidge had asked him why he even had social media if he didn’t talk to anyone. Although in retrospect her point was a fair one, Keith remembers getting really frustrated at her, shouting ‘I just follow people and like pages I care about, okay?’. To Keith, social media isn’t about friends or family, it’s just about keeping updated, keeping in the loop. That’s all that matters anyways.

It isn’t until Pidge and Hunk arrive with a pitcher of soda and begin to snicker that Keith looks up from his Twitter feed. His gaze is met with the mischievous eyes of Lance, positioned underneath the scoreboard where Keith’s name has been incorrectly entered as ‘Mullet’.

“How many times do I have to tell you Lance?” Keith groans. “It’s not a mullet.”

“You can keep denying it _all_ you want Keith,” Lance jests, “doesn’t change the fact that it’s there.”

Keith sighs in irritation and turns back toward the other two in the group, shooting an especially irritated glare toward his _supposed_ mediator. Pidge’s face softens into an smile as she slides the pitcher of soda over to Keith.

“Have some, Keith,” Hunk says, passing him a plastic cup, “I got root beer because Pidge said it was your favorite.” Keith looks back at her with an inquisitive eyebrow, being greeted with a toothy smile.

“Yeah, drink some and try and lighten up a bit yeah? We’re here to have fun,” Pidge says through a smile, shooting Keith one of her serious, intimidating glares. Keith quickly concedes, lifting up the pitcher of the caramel-colored soda and pouring himself a glass. He’s just about to take a sip before he’s interrupted by the harsh clearing of a throat near the ball return.

“May I have your attention everybody,” Lance begins, blue bowling ball in hand, “watch and learn how The Pinmaster does it!” Lance wiggles his eyebrows cockily, before spinning on his heels, and taking a deep breath. Keith rolls his eyes and starts to take a sip of his rootbeer as Lance raises the ball to his chin. Keith watches as Lance lines himself up with the arrows on the floor, and rushes toward the lane with a stride. His ball crashes down onto the wooden surface of the lane, and rolls only a couple of feet before falling into the gutter. Keith snorts, root beer coming out of his nose and filling his whole throat and chest with a burning sensation. Pidge and Hunk double over in laughter at both of their friends’ misfortune, as Keith continues to cough the residual root beer out of his lungs.

“So much for The Pinmaster…” Keith mutters through wheezes and coughs as Lance turns around with an aggressive pout on his face.

“ _The Pinmaster_ is just warming up!” Lance huffs, crossing his arms. Keith finally feels the burning sensation subside and stops coughing.  

“Suuure, whatever you say _pinhead_ ,” Keith scoffs weakly as Pidge and Hunk’s cackles calm down into giggles.

“Yeah, well!” Lance shouts, placing his hands on his hips and glaring at Keith. “I’d like to see _you_ try, Keith!” Keith stands up from his seat, brushes past Lance and grabs his bowling ball off of the ball return.

“Gladly.”

Keith raises the ball up to his chin and lets the words of his adoptive older brother enter his mind: _‘Patience yields focus’_. He takes a deep breath, lines up his shot just to the right of the center pin, and strides toward the lane. The ball lands with a resounding thud, and begins rolling toward the edge of the lane, a heavy spin visible from the blur of the stripes on its ruby surface.

“Hah!” Keith can hear Lance tease behind him. _Wait for it…_

Suddenly, the ball sharply curves back toward the center, knocking all of the pins down with a satisfying crash. _Strike number one._

Keith turns around slowly, taking pride in the cheers from their two spectators, and amusement from his astonished project partner standing in front of him, jaw dropped and slumped forward. Keith brushes past Lance’s shocked straight figure and returns to his seat, leaning back in it and looking up at Lance’s back with a smug smile. _Take that ‘pinmaster’_...

Lance quickly turns around to face the group, before scoffing and waving a dismissive hand.

“You just had a lucky throw,” Lance dismisses, shaking his head back and forth.

_CLICK._

Keith jumps slightly as Lance’s figure is illuminated by a bright flash of light. He looks to his left and sees Pidge holding a digital camera, eye gazing through the viewfinder, and finger hovering over the capture button. Lance jumps back at the sudden flash, covering his face from the view of the camera and rubs at his eyes.

“Jeez Pidge,” he complains, “warn a guy next time! What do you even have a camera for?”

“I just wanted capture some of these awesome throws. Use them to better my technique, you know?” Pidge says, beaming an innocent smile.

“Whatever floats your boat...” Lance says with a shrug, before picking up his ball and turning around, “Hey Pidge,” he says cockily, turning his head over his shoulder, a smirk growing on his face. “Capture this!” Lance strides forward and once again, his blue ball lands with a loud crash and rolls straight into the gutter. He turns around slowly, the look of dejection on his face briefly illuminated by the flash of Pidge’s camera.

“I-” Lance stutters, “I’m still warming up, okay?” He huffs, heading back to his seat and pouring himself a glass of root beer. Keith smirks slightly at the cracks in Lance’s ego beginning to form. _It’s only a matter of time..._

* * *

 

Yeah okay, so maybe Lance is a _little_ bit rusty since he got to college, but it’s bowling. Bowling isn’t easy, _certainly not as easy as Keith is making it look._ It’s just not fair. They’re already to the fifth frame, and Keith has not only been the subject of more of Pidge’s pictures, but he’s scored more than 70 points. _70\. Points._ What kind of college student is so good at bowling that they’re able to get strikes on every other goddamn frame?

Lance’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Keith’s ball landing on the lane. Before he can even focus on what’s going on around Keith’s slender frame, his ball reaches the end of the lane. Keith’s ruby red projectile tumbles into the pins and knocks all of them down once again, the crash they make riling up Lance’s frustration at his own lack of skill even more. _Apparently Keith is that type of college student._

Once Keith turns around with a cocky smirk planted upon his face, Lance's anger hits a breaking point, and he rises from his seat.

“You’re totally cheating!” he accuses, pointing a figure in Keith’s direction. Keith momentarily looks taken aback by Lance’s insult, before a scowl grows onto his face, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“No I’m not!” he spits, quickly shaking his head.

“Yeah sure,” Lance dismissively scoffs, “like you could possibly get three strikes in five frames _without_ cheating!” he crosses his arms across his chest and looks away with an angry pout.

“It’s not _my_ fault you suck at bowling,” Keith snaps, causing Lance to stand up straight and dramatically gasp.

“You take that back, Mullet!” Lance huffs, pointing a finger in Keith’s direction. “No one defecates on The Pinmaster’s good name!”

“Make me, _pinhead!_ ” Keith aggressively challenges, taking a step closer to Lance.

“Guys!” Pidge shouts, taking a defensive stance between the two. “Can you two just, chill the fuck out?” Lance huffs, and turns his head to the side, forming a pout in his face.

“He started it,” Lance mumbles, causing the aggression painted over Keith’s face to grow.

“ _You_ were the one who literally accused me of cheating out of nowhere,” Keith rebukes, causing Lance to snap his head back in Keith’s direction.

“Yeah Keith, well,” he huffs, “you made my bowling look bad!”

“I think you did good enough of a job of that on your own,” Keith jests, eyes narrowing and a smirk growing on his face. Lance is taken aback by Keith’s comments, the shards from his shattered ego driving deeper into his heart.

The urge to fight leaves Lance’s face and nerves, and he looks down dejectedly at the floor. Yeah okay, maybe he _shouldn’t_ have bragged about being a master at bowling without knowing Keith’s skill, but he just had to show the guy that he was good at something. He may be dumb, he may be obnoxious, but he’s at least _good at something_. Now he can’t even say that. He sighs, noticing the weight of Pidge’s hand on his chest disappear. He looks up at her, and notices she’s deep in thought, sporadically glancing between the two of them.

Pidge waits a beat, before snapping with her right hand and holding her index finger up.

“Time for bonding exercise number one,” she says with a devilish smile, glancing first at Lance, and then turning her body to Keith. “Keith, since you’re already fifty points ahead of Lance, and you’re clearly going to win this game anyways,” she leans closer into Keith’s personal space, and points a thumb over her shoulder to Lance, “you’re going to teach him how to throw a bowling ball properly.” Her proposal puts Lance into a state of shock. _Me, learning something from Keith?_

“What?!” Keith protests, eyes widening and throwing his arms out to the side.

“You heard me,” she responds flatly, picking up the blue bowling ball and placing it gingerly into Lance’s hands.

“Not happening, Pidge,” Keith protests, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing in anger.

“Guess this project of yours isn’t happening either then,” she says teasingly, turning her back to the boys and returning to her seat. Her sudden absence sends chills up Lance’s spine, when he realizes he’s left alone on the lane with his mullet-headed instructor. Keith sighs deeply, deep in internal consideration, before he rolls his eyes and lets out a soft groan.

“Fine.” Keith responds flatly, taking two steps closer to Lance. “It’s all in the swing and release.” He explains, standing next to Lance and swinging his arm back and forth, demonstrating the proper technique. Lance attempts to mimic Keith’s swing, but apparently doesn’t copy it to his satisfaction.

“No, like this,” Keith chides, bringing his calloused fingertips to rest upon Lance’s arm, the sudden contact with his partner causing more chills to run up Lance’s spine. Keith’s guides Lance’s arm back and forth, his firm grip correcting the errors in Lance’s movement. After repeating the motion a few more times, Keith releases Lance’s arm. “Now you try.” Lance repeats the corrected motion, the pressure of Keith’s guiding fingertips on his arm still not fully subsiding.

“Perfect,” Keith says with a nod, “now line yourself up in the middle, throw nice and slow, and curl your fingers a little bit to the right when you release. It’ll stay straight that way.”

Lance follows Keith’s instructions as best as he can, and lines up properly. He takes a deep breath and focuses on bowling and nothing but bowling. He raises the ball up to his chin, and strides forward, releasing it from his grip with a little curl to the right. It lands on the lane with a resonating thud and rolls slowly right down the middle of the lane, crashing a few seconds later into the pins and knocking nine of them down. A wave of excitement fills Lance’s body, and he turns around with the biggest smile on his face.

“Oh my god, I did it!” he shouts with glee, noticing Keith raising his hand up for a high-five, a smirk present on his face.

“Good job,” Keith says earnestly as Lance meets his high-five.

“Thanks for the tips, Mullet,” Lance says with an honest smile, appreciating the help Keith gave him immensely.

“No problem, pinhead,” Keith says with slight jest, lightly elbowing Lance in the side.

“Pin- _master_ , Keith, pin- _master_ ,” Lance corrects, causing Keith to roll his eyes.

“Helping you was a mistake...” he sighs.

_CLICK._

“Pidge, what did I say about warning a guy when you’re gonna take a picture?!”

* * *

 

“Pinmaster, huh?” Keith says with a scoff as Lance looks up at the scoreboard: Mullet’s score falling just below 170, Lance’s barely clearing 40. Yeah, it was by no means Lance’s _best_ game, but it sure was alright considering the circumstances.

“I’ll have you know I was still just a bit rusty today, okay Mister Moody-Broody?” Lance quips, carrying his bowling ball over to the bowling rack, Keith following in tow. “At least I _improved_ halfway through!”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.” Keith says, rolling his eyes as they return to the table, Keith beginning to take off his bowling shoes. Lance quickly follows suit, and has his blue converse sneakers back on in a couple of seconds, feeling relief in the extra room and air they provided to his feet. He glances over at Keith, and sees him slipping back on… _leather combat boots?_

“You know,” Lance teases. “I get its winter and there’s snow on the ground or whatever, but,” he signals his hand down at Keith’s footwear, “combat boots?”

“They’re comfy,” Keith says with a shrug, “plus they don’t stand out like those ridiculous things you’ve got on your feet.” _He has the nerve to call_ my _shoes ridiculous?_

“They’re converse!” Lance explains, signaling to his feet. “They’re comfy and colorful _and_ more attractive than your stupid combat boots.”

“Oh yeah?” Keith says with a smirk, leaning back in his seat. “Prove it.”

“Gladly!” Lance protests as he rises from his seat and walks over to the counter. He _knows_ Florona will help him prove his point. She will help show that Lance’s footwear is the _superior_ of the two. He arrives at the counter and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Hey there Flo-Flo,” he cooes, ignoring the evil glare that she sends his way.

“Don’t call me that,” she spits, causing Lance to chuckle nervously in response.

“Heh, yeah okay, no problem,” he rambles, the words tumbling out of his mouth at what feels like a million miles per hour. “Anyway, I was wondering what you think of my shoes.”

“Your _what_?” Florona asks with confusion. Lance lifts his left leg up and places it on the counter.

“My shoes!” he says, signaling down his leg toward his _beautiful_ converses. “Aren’t they the perfect looking shoes for a guy like me?” The looks of confusion that Florona gives Lance hurt his ego a little bit, but he feels fulfilled when she lets out a deep sigh and closes her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she huffs, tilting her head back and avoiding eye contact. Lance perks up into a huge smile, dropping his leg off the countertop and turning around to face his three snickering compadres standing at the door behind him. “See! The ladies love them!” he shouts at Keith in particular, who just shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. _Combat boot Keith will never will clearly never understand the importance of foot fashion…_

“Well, I’ll see you later Florona,” he says, turning back to her and giving her a suave wink. “Thanks for the fun tonight,” Lance says, snapping his fingers into finger guns and walking backward toward the rest of his friend group. Florona rolls her eyes, but _clearly_ it's because she can’t handle the Lance charm, right?

The group begins to make their way up toward the main doors of the student union, Lance and Keith side by side, and Pidge and Hunk following closely behind. A smirk grows on Lance’s face as he leans over to speak to Keith.

“I think I charmed her,” he says with bolstered confidence. Keith scoffs and shakes his head in response.

“Sure did,” he says sarcastically, digging his hands into his pockets and ignoring Lance’s protests for the rest of the way out of the building. _Keith just doesn’t get the ladies, that’s all…_

The group comes to a stop as they emerge from the student union into the cold January night. Pidge clears her throat, and turns to address the group.

“Welp, you two managed to stay next to each other for an hour without coffee stains, bruises, or blood, so I’d call out first bonding exercise a success,” Pidge boasts. “Hunk and I will keep you updated on next week’s plan, but until then, try and keep up whatever you did tonight, yeah? It’s clearly working.” Pidge looks between the two with pointed glares, before taking off in the direction of the bus stop, dragging Keith behind her by the wrist. “See you guys!”

Lance follows their shrinking figures with his eyes as they walk away, and he swears he sees Keith look back at him with a smile just before they round the corner.

* * *

 

Later that night, after he and Hunk arrived back to their dorm room, Lance coops himself up in the bathroom and begins his night time skin care routine. It takes a _lot_ of effort to get his skin as flawless and soft as it is, and being consistent with his regimen is a key to his success. He’s halfway through applying the last part of his procedure, his face mask, when, he hears his phone vibrate on the countertop. He removes his hands from his face and glances down at his phone, seeing a text message from Keith on his lock screen.

_(10:01): Hey, tonight wasn’t that bad._

Lance quickly washes the remaining face cream off of his hands under the sink, and dries off his hands. He picks his phone up and shoots out quick responses.

**(10:02): yea it was a chill night**

**(10:02): even tho i still think u totally cheated**

_(10:02): Practice makes perfect._

**(10:03): mhm sure ok whatever u want to believe**

Lance places his phone into the pocket of his pajamas, and leaves the bathroom. He quickly crosses the room over to his bed, and collapses onto it, cozying up under the covers. As he’s about to turn out the light on his end-table, he feels his phone vibrate once more in his pocket.

_(10:05): Hey, did you want to meet up and try to figure out what to do for this project on Monday?_

**(10:05): yea, weve gotta figure smth out and fast.**

_(10:06): What time?_

**(10:06): i have an advising appt at 4, but any time after that should b good.**

_(10:07):_ _Does 6PM sound good?_

**(10:07): works 4 me**

_(10:08): Cool, see you then._

**(10:08): c u!**

Lance turns off the lamp on his end-table, and is about to set his phone down, before it vibrates in his hand once again:

_(10:09): Night, pinhead._

Lance snorts at Keith’s nickname for him, before typing out a quick reply:

**(10:09): gn mullet**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3


	7. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,
> 
> I just want to first give a _big_ apology for taking so long to update! Much like Keith in this fic, I'm pursuing STEM in college, and it's a constant, never-ending struggle of studying, successes, and failures. I've had at least one midterm exam every week for the last few weeks, and it's kept me really busy, preventing me from working on this story.
> 
> The good news is, Thanksgiving break is coming up next week! I hope to use the five-day weekend to write as much of the story as I can so updates will (fingers crossed!) return to a semi-regular basis.
> 
> I'm glad you guys are enjoying this fic, and I hope not to disappoint again in the future! 
> 
> (Also, less than a month to Season 8, eeeee I can't wait!!)
> 
> Thanks once again to [Hanaboosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaboosa) for the beta!!

**Week 2 - Monday**

 

“Buenos días, mis amigos!” Lance shouts, Spanish rolling off of his tongue, as he poses at the entryway of the lecture hall. He made sure to wake up _extra_ early today, to be sure that something embarrassing like last Wednesday never happens again. After all, he’s got a reputation to keep up with beyond his schoolwork. It may be exhausting sometimes, but Lance manages to get by.

He proceeds toward the nearest stairwell down to the front of the room, greeting people with hellos and good mornings, before his mullet-headed project partner enters his mind. Lance stops in his tracks and scans around the back of the lecture hall, until he spots the raven-haired boy, headphones in, slumped forward, forehead resting on the seat in front of him.

Lance lets out an inward sigh at Keith’s lack of recognition once again. It is then that he vows that one of these mornings, Lance is going to get Keith to lift that stupid mulleted head of his off of that chair, take his headphones out, and say good morning to him. One day, he’ll get Keith to acknowledge him. _It’s only a matter of time…_

Lance quickly dashes down the staircase to his row, and scoots across the aisle to his seat next to Allura. As he plops down into his seat and begins to take out his photography notebook, Allura looks over at him with an excited smile.

“So Lance, how did bowling go?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and giving him a toothy smile.

“Wh-” Lance stammers, dumbfounded, “how did you know about that?”

“Hunk told me _all_ about your little bonding exercise this weekend,” Allura says, causing Lance to cross his arms across his chest and roll his eyes.

“Figures,” he mutters. Lance knows he probably should’ve expected nothing less from his best bro. Last semester, Allura had apparently already known about Lance’s crush on her before he even asked her out. However it was not because Lance was obvious enough, no no no, it was because Hunk accidentally told her about it one night at dinner. Speaking of which, Hunk _still_ owes him an order of garlic knots for spilling that secret. _I’ll have to remind him…_

“Don’t worry Lance, I was just curious, that’s all,” Allura says with a giggle, “seriously though, how did it go?”

“Well,” Lance begins with a sigh, “it’s not like we suddenly became friends or anything.” Lance looks down at his thumbs and begins twiddling them. “Keith and I still argued for half the night and needed help to resolve the situation. Although, I guess I didn’t end up with coffee-soaked clothes, so I’ll call that progress.”

“Coffee stained clothes?” Allura asks with confusion.

“Ugh,” Lance throws his head back and groans, “it’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Well Lance,” Allura says softly, taking his hand into her own. “I’m thankful that you’re taking the necessary steps to develop your partnership with Keith, and I hope for your sake that your camaraderie continues to grow.”

“Yeah, I hope so too,” Lance says, anxiousness present in his voice. “I’m just nervous that we’re not going to get done in time. I mean, some of the other groups may already be like 20 or 30 pictures in, and Keith and I still don’t know what we’re doing, and a week is already gone and we are quickly running out of time and-”

“Lance,” Allura interrupts, giving his hand her trademark reassuring squeeze, “You still have plenty of time, and I’m certainly sure there are other groups that are in the same position as you.” Lance mulls on Allura’s words for a few moments. She’s right, maybe he is being a _little_ bit fanatical about the whole thing, but he definitely feels he’s justified in his concern. He and Keith need to figure out what they’re doing, and get taking pictures as soon as possible. He doesn’t want to be stuck the night before the due date putting together 350 pictures. He doesn’t want to be taking crappy pictures to meet the minimum. He just wants to get an idea decided and get working on it as soon as possible, _especially_ before he ends up at risk of failing photography.

“Lance, it’ll be okay,” Allura reassures, likely sensing his panic and giving his hand another squeeze. “You can do it, you _both_ can do it, I believe in both of you.”

“Thanks, Ally,” Lance says, heaving out his anxiousness with a deep sigh. He pauses for a beat before changing the subject: “So, how was cheer practice this week?”

“Ugh,” Allura groans, rolling her eyes, “it’s a long story...” Allura begins to adjust her body to face Lance. She is just about to open her mouth and begin speaking as Coran bursts through the door at the front of the lecture hall.

“Good morning my photography protogés!” he shouts, dashing quickly over to the lectern and dropping his bag down. As Coran takes off his winter coat and begins to set up his laptop, Allura leans over to Lance and places a hand over her mouth.

“I’ll tell you about cheer later,” she whispers. Lance nods in response, just as Coran begins to speak once again.

“Now before we begin this morning, I’d just like to address a question that a couple of students asked this past Thursday during my office hours!” Coran shouts, connecting the necessary wires to his laptop, and reaching underneath the lectern for the microphone. He pins the microphone to his collar, and gives it a few inquisitive taps, nodding in satisfaction when he hears the tapping sound echo throughout the lecture hall. “Right, speaking with a microphone is much better.” he says in a relaxed tone, “Don’t have to strain my voice as much. As everyone knows, you can’t catch a yelmor with a strained voicebox!” Coran chuckles harshly at his own joke, prompting Lance to turn and look at Allura. Allura shrugs dumbfoundedly in response. _So he knows enough about his students to pair them together for a project, but not enough to know that even his own niece doesn’t understand his humor. Got it._

“Whew!” he whistles, wiping a tear from his laughter. “Anyways, as I had said, a couple of students come into my office hours last Thursday, and I figured their question was important enough to address it for the entire class.” He says, stepping away from the lectern, and pacing back and forth across the room. “Their question was whether you could have other people working with your groups to take some of the pictures.” Coran stops in his tracks, turns to face the lecture hall and claps his hands together in excitement. “I’m happy to let you know that this is perfectly fine! The only rule I want to enforce is that the photographs taken by other students must feature one or the both of you as the subject. This project overall is less so about each individual photograph, but rather the story they all tell collectively, so if you want some help with your photographs, that is quite alright!” Coran returns to his lectern and pulls up a PowerPoint presentation.

“Right, if there are no further questions, I’d like to jump straight into today’s exciting adventure into the history of film photography,” he says enigmatically, waving his hands through the air with mystique. Lance tilts his head back and lets out a soft sigh. He hates film history. _This is going to be a long two hours…_

After nearly falling asleep three times, Lance finally closes his notebook after two hours of history lessons, and shoves it hastily into his backpack. He rises from his seat, and makes his way as quickly as he can out of the arts building, hoping that he can still make it on time to his academic advising appointment. _C’mon long legs, work with me!_

* * *

 

Keith lowers his bag off of his back, and slowly slides down into a study room chair. He pulls out his phone, and quickly takes a glance at the time:

 

_5:59PM_.

 

Keith huffs a breath, and turns his mouth upward into a smirk. _Early again…_

He quickly shoots Lance a text about his location, and, having nothing better to do until his partner arrives, opens up Facebook on his phone and refreshes his feed. He quickly scrolls past news updates and posts from his favorite snack foods, bands, and celebrities, until a post from one of his two Facebook “friends” causes him to pause.

The post is from Pidge, indicating that she had uploaded twenty-three photos under a new album called “Bowling”. Keith clicks on the first photo, and takes pride his bowling form, one of the few things that he’s worked to perfect over many sessions alone down in the gameroom. He may have well spent his spare time at least working at _something_ , right? Keith doesn’t feel like he’s good at a lot of things, but he’s glad that when he really puts his mind into something, he sees results.

Keith clicks to the next photo, and snorts at the scene it depicts. The entire left side of the picture features him smirking as the pins crash apart at the end of the lane behind him. On the right side of the image? A side-shot of Lance’s face, jaw-dropped, leaning forward in his seat. The memory of that moment causes Keith to chuckle lightly to himself.

He skips to the last photo of the album, and finds its a picture of him and Lance standing next to each other. It was the moment right after he had taught him how to properly throw a bowling ball. Lance’s face sports a big, toothy smile as Keith lightly elbows him in the side, a small smirk plastered upon his face. Just looking at the photograph causes a soft, warming sensation to fill Keith’s gut.

Yeah, okay. As difficult as it is for Keith to admit it, he actually had a good time. He had _fun_ with _other people_ for the first time since he was a _kid_ last Friday night. And, as much as he hates to say it, Lance McClain _was_ a part of the reason he had such a good time that night. Sure, he had a massive ego problem, was an obnoxious flirt, and couldn’t bowl for shit, but Keith knows from the many of the times he’s done it solo that going bowling wouldn’t have been as fun had he not been there. He made the night what it was. _He made the night fun._

If you would’ve told Keith last week that he’d ever think spending time with Lance McClain would be fun, he would’ve laughed in your face (and probably knocked you out, but that’s besides the point). Now, only one week later, Keith still can’t believe that just one outing with the blue-eyed boy had made him realize how much a socialite can change an experience for the better, _how much one person could make his life more interesting…_

Keith shakes his head in an attempt to shake the thought from his brain. No, he’s gotta stay reserved for the rest of this project. He can’t even begin to consider letting Lance through his walls, not now, not ever. Their teamwork and partnership are bounded by a 10-week time limit, and after that, their communication is over. Keith knows there’s no point in putting in the effort to let Lance in; once their project is submitted, Lance is going to leave him as expected, just like everyone else has before. He’s spending time with Keith because he has to; he’s coming tonight because he has to for the grade. He’s not coming for Keith. He never will. The sooner Keith lets the illusion of anything more than a project partnership with Lance leave his head, the less pain he’ll feel when he leaves like everyone before him. _I can’t get hurt again._

Keith’s thoughts are interrupted by Lance entering the study room, an anguished pout present on his face.

“Hello,” Lance sulks, his voice swimming with uncharacteristic tones of stress and sadness. Lance slowly takes his seat across the table from Keith, and rests his head down on the table.

“What’s your problem tonight?” Keith playfully scoffs, causing Lance to bury his face into his forearm.

“It’s none of your business Keith,” Lance groans, his words muffled by the fabric of his jacket. Keith pauses to stare at the cloud of emotions ravaging through his project partner, and proceeds to roll his eyes at what he believes is a clear display of Lance’s melodrama.

“Well,” Keith sighs, “It kind of _is_ my business since this charade of yours is preventing us from working right now, so what’s up?” His words cause an immediate reaction from Lance, who shoots his head up and stares at Keith with angered eyes.

“No, it’s not your business!” Lance shouts, before calming himself down with a shaky sigh and settling his head back into his arm. “Besides, it’s not like you’d care anyways.”

“While that may be true,” Keith says flatly, “the least I can do is let you get this shit off of your mind so we can get started on figuring out what to do with this project.” Lance’s head raises off the table to stare at Keith, who’s unable to interpret the exact emotions swirling through his cerulean irises. Keith hesitantly smirks before adding, “Besides, I’m the closest thing to ‘talking to a wall’ you’ll ever get.”

Keith leans back into his chair and looks back at his project partner, keeping his smirk plastered firmly across his mouth. He continues to stare across the table, until he notices Lance break eye-contact and mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath. Before Keith can begin to decipher what Lance had said, his eyes are back on Keith’s, and the two stare at each other for a couple of moments. Keith is about to say something more, when Lance closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, slumping back down to the surface of the table.

“I just got back from meeting with my academic advisor,” he says shakily, “and she told me that I’m on probation because my GPA was so low last semester and I-” he stammers, “I found out that if I fail another class, I’ll lose all of my scholarships and be forced to drop out.”

“Come on,” Keith scoffs, rolling his eyes, “how hard can art classes be?”

“It’s not just _art classes_ Keith,” Lance seethes, “I’m stuck taking calculus too.”

“Like calculus is hard,” Keith dismisses, knowing all too well how arts students like to blow difficulty out of proportion. Lance snaps his head up, meeting Keith’s dismissive gaze with his angry blue eyes.

“Well, I’m sorry that not everyone is as smart as you Keith,” Lance shouts, deep pain evident in his voice. Keith looks into his eyes, and notices tears beginning to well up, before Lance slams his head back down into his forearm.

“Are you crying?” Keith asks with concern, taken aback by the tears, _the actual tears_ , flowing out of Lance McClain’s eyes. Lance is always this over-the-top, positive guy. He seemed like he was the kind of guy that was always happy. Hell, that’s part of the reason that Keith envied him so much. He thought Lance never cried, he thought Lance never had a reason to.

“N-No,” Lance stammers dismissively through sniffles, “it’s just r-really dusty in here, okay?” he fires back, clearly not pleased by the fact that Keith caught him at a weak point.

“Lance, it’s going to be okay,” Keith says calmly, hoping to stop the pained flow from Lance’s eyes, and return a smile to its rightful place on his face, “you’re okay.”

“No! It’s not going to be okay!” Lance shouts through his tears, rising from his chair and throwing his arms out to the side, “I’m just a dumb fucking kid who doesn’t do anything right. I’m not okay,” he fully begins to bawl, wiping the teardrops from his face, “math is impossible, this project is going nowhere, and I only have to fail at one of these things and everything I’ve worked for is gone, my childhood dream has disappeared and I-” he stammers through his tears, “...I’ve let everyone down.” Lance collapses back into his chair and buries his head back into his forearm, soaking his tears into the fabric of his jacket.

Keith averts his gaze from his project partner for a moment and feels something begin to tighten in his chest. This isn’t right. He knows this isn’t right. Someone like Lance, who clearly loves what he does and has worked hard to get to where he is shouldn’t feel like this. Even if he has a big ego and gets on Keith’s nerves sometimes, someone like Lance should never feel like Keith does. Keith knows this pain all too well, and he wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, especially someone like Lance. _He should never feel like he lets people down._

As Lance’s pained sobs turn into sniffles, Keith thinks back to their outing last Friday, with one moment in particular resonating in his head. When Pidge forced him to help Lance with his bowling technique, Lance never protested. He willingly listened to how to properly throw a bowling ball from Keith. Not only did Lance work with him on the stupid little lesson, but he also learned from it really, really fast. While Keith isn’t good at picking up on social cues, he at least can tell when someone’s a quick learner. Just then an idea pops into his head.

Keith’s good at math. He has to be, he’s an engineering major after all. It’s basically applied math. As much as it sucks to have to go through all of that bullshit for his major, maybe it will finally now be useful for something. Although he knows he still can’t get himself closer to Lance, the least he can do is help the guy out, right? Help Lance not have to worry about dropping out of school and having all of the money he spent go to waste? It’s just what people in college do, help each other out when they’re struggling, right?

“Lance,” Keith says uneasily, causing Lance to look up at him with his reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, “I want to help you,” he pauses before quickly adding, “...with math.” Lance stares at him for a few moments before scowling and rolling his eyes again.

“Ha ha ha,” he laughs mockingly, “look Keith, I get being a dick is your whole thing, but I really don’t need this shit from you right now.”

“I’m serious, Lance.” Keith says softly, causing Lance to look up at him in a panic, emotions of worry and hope seeming to fight for control over his face, “I took calculus last semester, and I should know enough to help you out.” Lance stares into his eyes for a few moments, before blinking and leaning his lanky frame closer to Keith.

“Serious?” he asks with uneasiness, sniffling lightly.

“Serious,” Keith says with a firm nod. “I know how much a tutor can help you understand some of the concepts. Shiro helped me get through that class with minimal struggle.”

“Shiro?” Lance asks in dumbfounded shock, his eyes popping open wide. “Like, _the_ Shiro?”

“Uh, yeah?” Keith asks with confusion, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

“How in the hell did you manage to score Shiro as your personal tutor? He’s graduating at the top of his class, he’s so amazing, he’s basically my idol,” Lance muses, causing Keith to snort.

“He puts his milk in the bowl before his cereal,” Keith says with a chuckle, “he’s a loser.”

“Wait wh-” Lance malfunctions. “How do you know that?”

“He’s my brother?” Keith says in further confusion, as his project partner’s jaw drops.

“No way…” Lance says softly, “he’s _your_ brother…”

“I thought you already knew.”

“No, I didn’t,” Lance says with a pout, crossing his arms across his chest, “and that information would’ve been nice before I told him all about my embarrassing stain situation in the fifth grade last Wednesday!” He huffs. “You could’ve totally made fun of me for that!”

“Whatever,” Keith scoffs and rolls his eyes, but internally feels thankful that Lance is starting to act like he regularly does again. He pauses for a moment before getting their conversation back on track. “Shiro taught me a lot of shortcuts and tips for calculus, and I’ll do my best to help you understand them too.”

“Wow,” Lance says with a playful scoff, a soft smile working its way back onto his face, “thanks, Mullet, I-” he stammers, “I’d really appreciate your help...” Lance pauses for a moment, as a wave of concern washes back over his face. “Won’t this distract us from this photography project though? We’ve gotta get this done too.”

“Nope,” Keith says, shaking his head quickly, “we’ve just gotta multitask. With my credit load this year, I’ve learned how to do it pretty well.” Keith’s words cause Lance to suddenly perk up in his chair, his smile returning in full force.

“I’ve got it!” he beams, slamming his hand down onto the surface of the table.

“Got what?”

“Our project idea!” Lance shouts, beginning to reach down into his bag. He pulls out his calculus textbook, and lets it fall to the table with a resounding thud. “Okay, okay, hear me out.” He says, waving his hands in front of him in excitement.

“I’m listening,” Keith says flatly, scooting his seat closer to the table.

“We take pictures of me progressing in calc. Think about it, we could take pictures of us studying together,” Lance holds out his hand and begins to count out with his fingers, “study breaks, test successes, my _guaranteed_ test failures,” he throws his hands out to the side for emphasis, “plus there’s plenty of room for aesthetic shots of textbooks and worksheets, and who doesn’t _looooove_ aesthetic shots, right?” Keith nods thoughtfully at Lance’s proposal, and begins to take it in, appreciating the simplicity and ease of the whole thing; minimal social interaction (besides with Lance of course), and doing something he’s not only good at, but committed to doing anyways? It’s perfect for him too.

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“Yes!” Lance says with a fist-pump, and begins to dance around the small study room. He finally comes to a stop after a few moments and collapses casually into his chair. “God, it feels _so_ good to finally have figured out what we we’re going to do.”

Keith nods in agreement, happy that their bickering over project ideas has finally come to an end. He and Lance can finally have this project going, potentially even finishing it up in less than the allotted three-months, and be back on their separate ways before Keith gets closer to Lance than he regrets. Hell, the two of them may both even end up better off on the other side, Lance being able to stay in school thanks to Keith, and he’ll end up on the other side getting some more calc practice in. It’ll be mutually beneficial, not that hard, and done quickly. _It’s a win-win._

He and Lance spent the rest of the hour planning out their study schedule, deciding to meet every Monday for studying and picture taking beginning next week. Keith had just finished entering all of the meetings in his calendar when Lance suddenly looks down at his phone in alarm.

“Oh shoot, I lost track of time!” he says, beginning to shove his planner and textbook into his backpack. “I’m helping a friend close at Starbucks, and that’s in ten minutes, so I’ve gotta run.” He quickly rises from his seat and heads for the door, pausing as he grips the handle. He turns his head over his shoulder to look back at Keith with a smile. “See ya, Mullet.”

“See you,” Keith responds, lifting his mouth up into a soft smile as Lance turns his head back around and pushes out of the door.

350 photos, ten weeks, one semester of tutoring Lance? _I’ve got this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated <3 <3


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